Rose of Jericho
by SpyVsTailor
Summary: Some things change. People come and go, the seasons shift and blur, time passes, generations rise and fall, but some things never really change. Do they? Rated for the colourful language of the Dixon's and for various other nefarious things.
1. Simple Man

**Well, this is it. The fourth in the Graveyard Dirt & Salt series. It's a little bit different style. I wanted to change things up a little. Um, I looked into when the show was set and it was fairly vague, so I back-dated it a bit. Please, don't nit-pick about this minor detail too much. Enjoy! Review or don't, as always. Just read and enjoy!**

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

**Rose of Jericho**

**Milton's Historical Logs #83**

**Friday, July 11, 2014**

Today I finally finished fixing the solar panels the soldiers from Tennessee ruined. For weeks since the attack on the convent we have been running on half power, but now we should be back to full power. Which means we can finally start digging into the microwave popcorn reserves and heating the soup without heating the entire convent. (We really need to invest in an electric stove for the convent kitchen. I'll make a note of it in the next run Daryl and the Lieutenant make for supplies.)

Daryl has taken to expanding his shed, which I disagreed with and informed him that it would probably be easier to just tear it down and rebuild a proper house, but he seemed to quite adamantly dislike that suggestion and told me in no specific terms where to go and how to get there. I have decided to keep my distance from him for a few days, just in case.

I took a quick inventory of our remaining food stores and if Carl's group can't find food in Atlanta we may face a hard, dark winter. By my calculations we could lose up to half of our people.

My concern as well has been medications. We are running low on anti-biotics, even counting the stuff I've made, but Carol's beehive, having taken a hit in the fight with the soldiers, is still intact enough and the Queen has survived, so hopefully we can treat minor wounds with the honey they produce.

While Daryl works on his 'home', the Lieutenant has been working high on the roof of the church, much to the perturbation of Grace, who constantly frets that the man will fall to his death from the steep roof. I personally rigged the Lieutenant up there with ropes and pulleys, so I can vouch for his safety, though if Grace ever reads this, I completely respect her choice in worrying and she's right about the Lieutenant being mad as a dog.

I've taken on that young boy Toby from Sister Ruth's children, he's a bright boy who shows promise of making a sharp and astute scientist. I wasn't expecting for him to suddenly become my protégé and responsibility, but I'm grateful he's one of those children who doesn't need constant supervision. I wasn't prepare to clean diapers or any of the other things that one must do with children.

Rick is making rapid recovery after his stroke, he still has some difficulty in communicating speech, but I've been helping both him and the Kowalski from Delgado's in their rehabilitation.

Delgado had asked if the younger Kowalski could join us long enough to get his mobility back into the leg that was shattered bad. Delgado at least sent food over enough to supply us with food to feed Kowalski and a little extra for our efforts.

Kowalski's injuries were bad, but I'm also helping him with speech therapy, but he continues to prefer non-verbal communication, so I've taken it upon myself to teach him ASL. He enjoys this greatly, but so far I'm the only person who can communicate back and forth with him. He's a surprisingly smart young man and to my knowledge he is a lot less war-like that I first surmised. More introverted and thoughtful.

Once he gets old enough I'm hoping to begin lessons in sign language with Langdon, but as of yet the toddler is too young. Still, I'm progressing on his hearing aid problem, so perhaps I may be able to help Kowalski as well, since he has about thirty percent hearing in one ear.

In all, for the moment, things at the convent are calm and progressing nicely.

**Current home population: 27 (One added number from Delgado's group.)**

**Current away population: 6**

**Current forecast: 65º, Partly Cloudy**

**Current mood: Calm (but that could change if Daryl find's out I've been trying to talk some sense into Carol about that slanty shanty they live in.)**

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

****Carol****

"Goddamn son-of-a-bitch it all to hell!"

From her position on the ground, Carol peered up at Daryl as he stood on the roof of their shed, trying to tear shingles off with a crowbar. Settling her hand on her stomach, she arched her back and shielded her eyes with the other.

"Maybe Milton was right," she suggested. "Maybe we should just tear it down and start anew."

"Milton's a goddamned egg-headed know-it-all with more mouth than balls," Daryl snarled. "This is our home, it just needs some fixing. I'm not coming down until these shingles are off or Milton show's his damned face so I can whoop his ass for wedging his nose in where it doesn't belong."

Unsure why Daryl was being so stubborn about the shed, Carol sighed and shifted on her feet. The added weight of her pregnant belly was beginning to get to her, especially the last week or so with all the running around and repairing they had been doing to the convent. Seemed she hardly ever got time to just sit, not that she would normally complain, but she was carrying around twenty extra pounds of weight and soon she would be full on thirty pounds heavier. It was a lot of weight to constantly drag around, especially when you were running after rambunctious kids trying to get them to settle enough for a few lessons under the magnolia tree in the yard.

Nadir seemed intent only on the lessons on knives, Annie was more interested in Boo the dog, Olivia wanted to have a twenty-four hour tea party, Toby wouldn't touch any of the weapons except the WWII Luger, which he explained in great detail the use and manufacturing of, Dean always mysteriously disappeared for the lessons and Elise would work on her pretty charcoal drawings, but didn't seem to pay much attention. Carol and Grace not only did their best to teach the children how to stay safe (Carol handling those lessons mostly on her own), but they took it upon themselves to teach the children about history and literature and art. Daryl didn't seem to understand why those were necessary, but Carol had reminded him that it was where they came from. That civilization was born of art and beauty, that stories and tales lived on long after they would be gone. That just because their civilization had fallen, the children couldn't learn about life through works like _Moby Dick_ _or The Outsiders_. That _Of Mice and Men_ was just as relevant now than it ever was.

She had even caught Annie reading _Gone With the Wind_ to Olivia and Nadir as the two girls played tea party and Nadir sat nearby weaving childish hats and baskets from river reeds. And even though Annie faltered on some words and made up rough estimations of what she thought others were or meant, she still found joy in reading something from the old world.

Carol knew it was important to teach the children to protect themselves, but she also knew that it was important to pass the torch to the children. To remind them to uphold the ways of how it was. They could be civilized, Grace had once said in argument to Daryl, in an uncivilized land.

Once, as the Lieutenant had sat in on a lesson and read Yeats to the children, Carol had even caught Dean sneaking up behind the tree to listen in and it brought a smile to her to know the boy wasn't completely savage. That his heart yearned for poetry and soft words.

But lessons were over for the day and Carol stood below Daryl on the roof of their shed, watching as her Dixon struggled with the stubborn old shingles.

"Whoever pinned these up here used eighty thousand damned nails for one sheet," Daryl continued to grumble.

Moving to stand at her side, the Lieutenant mimicked Carol's pose, hand to his eyes, other on his flat stomach.

She nudged him with her elbow and he grinned, addressing Daryl. "What's, ah…what's going on up there, _cabri_?"

Before Daryl could respond there was a groan, then a crack and Daryl disappeared out of sight.

Pushing into the shed's interior carefully, Carol and the Lieutenant found him in a heap of broken roof slats and shingles, the small Dixon brother snarling and cursing and twisting to get to his feet like a trapped beast.

"New roof, huh?" The Lieutenant asked calmly.

Daryl glowered and stomped out to find material to fix the roof with.

"You distract him and I'll just burn it down for you," the Lieutenant said to her. "We'll split the insurance money."

"Maybe you can talk some sense into him, he…he just won't listen to reason."

"_Mais_, if he doesn't listen to reason, he's not going to listen to me." At her insistent look, he smiled graciously and set off after Daryl, Carol following. "_Cabri_?" The Lieutenant called over to the man as Daryl bent over, going through their lumber pile. "Listen…why are you so determined to repair this spit stand when you could just build a whole new home here on this spot?"

Daryl glowered at him. "Are you going to help or are you just going to get underfoot?"

"Look, Cash found a pile of field stones behind that old plantation nearby, why don't you just take this pile of sticks down and set yourself a good solid foundation for a good solid home."

"Because there's nothing wrong with our home," Daryl snarled.

Carol glanced at the Lieutenant, both of them realizing what the problem was almost immediately.

It was the Lieutenant who spoke. "I see, okay. Daryl this…" he paused.

Carol stepped in, moving to place her hand on Daryl's bicep. "Daryl, this will always be our home, just…a lot less likely to crash down around our ears." She squeezed his arm gently. "Don't you want to build your family something that'll last longer than a year or two?"

He scowled.

"Tell you what," she said. "We can salvage parts of our home and put them into our new home. Like, the door and the windows, they're not rotted like the rest of it." She caressed the side of his face with a feather-like touch. "Come on, it'll still be our home, just…safer," she finished with a manipulative touch of her hand to her swollen stomach and a small, sweet grin.

He dropped the piece of lumber he was holding up and sighed.

Carol beamed, knowing she won. Pushing up onto her toes, she kissed him and bounced back. "Thank you! It'll be nice and it'll be ours, I promise."

Daryl shifted on his feet and eyed the shed.

"Well, guess we should start ripping it down," he said to the Lieutenant.

The Cajun frowned. "Nah, I have a lazier way."

"Don't you have a roof of your own to fix?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to miss out on burning down the house."

Carol looked at the evil gleam in the Lieutenant's eye with slight amusement.

"What the hell are you doing to my shed?!" Grace declared, joining them by the searing heat of the flaming building.

"Fay did it," Daryl said quickly.

"It was Carol's idea," the Lieutenant passed the buck smoothly.

From where she sat on a pile of their things that had been dragged out of the shed, Carol gawped in betrayal at the Lieutenant, before looking at Grace. "It's under control."

Grace folded her arms. "Carol, honey, are these men bothering you?"

"Just the tall one right now," Carol replied with a grin.

Tsking, Grace eyed the flames before, stepping back. "Well, you boys shouldn't place blame on pregnant ladies and…just mind the fire."

The Lieutenant darted forward and caught Grace before she could go, pulling her back against him and trapping her there.

"Where are you off to, _petite pie bavarde_?" He teased.

"Well, unlike you, you lazy layabout, I have work to do."

Burying his face in her dark hair, the Lieutenant smiled and even from where she stood by Daryl, Carol could see the blissful look in his eyes.

"I am working," he protested. "See those flames."

"The ones Carol instigated?" Grace demanded.

"Mmm, she's kind of a tricky thing, isn't she?" The Lieutenant asked.

Carol bowed her head and smiled as Daryl wove his arm around her waist and moved in closer to her.

"Carol is no more trickier than most women."

"Ah, so you admit that women are tricky."

"The female of the species is always deadlier than the male, honey." Grace admitted with a small, gracious smile as the Lieutenant's large hands fell to her stomach.

Daryl's did likewise over Carol's and she leaned back against him, watching the fire as it consumed the shed.

"Where are we going to store the things that were in that shed?" Grace asked suddenly.

The Lieutenant angled his jaw. "Huh, didn't think that far ahead."

"Group of delinquents," Grace murmured as Carol buried her laughing face into Daryl's shoulder.


	2. Against the Wind

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><p><strong>Milton's Historical Logs #89<strong>

**Tuesday, July 22, 2014**

Carl has returned from Atlanta, there were no lives lost on the trip and many supplies to be gained, though he did tell me that there are indeed infected who still haunt the city, they seem few and far between there, but they are there. We are almost full up to the brim with dry goods and canned goods. The cellar is so full of foodstuffs that we only have a narrow passageway to maneuver through.

There was so much and the pickings were so easy that Carl is planning to make another run into Atlanta and another and so on until we have enough.

By my calculations we have enough food to feed ten more mouths into the middle of next summer or if our population stays more or less the same we'll have enough to last until next winter. That's not including the fact that Carl may make two or three more trips and return with food enough. Our only problem now has been to bolster the numbers of Sister Gertrude's remaining cats in an effort to prevent rats and mice from getting in at our supplies. I've personally given Toby the task of caring for the cats and have asked Carl to bring back a healthy supply of cat food as all we have for the cats at the moment is leftovers and even those are pretty scant. Carl did have the foresight to bring back copious amounts of dog food and we've begun to actually invest in the animals. The chickens are flourishing, the dairy cow has been bred with some crafty negotiating with Delgado's people and we should soon see a few pigs come in our way from Ruth.

In all I've been very busy taking inventory and assigning new storage facilities, Glenn has even volunteered to set up a few people and himself at the nearby plantation, where we can store more.

Rick's progress is going well. He's getting stronger every day, though I've noticed he has shown no interest in any leadership roles, he has taken to minding the smaller children, to which he's shown actual talent, but this move has startled some. It's not to be surprised, Rick has had a serious stroke and he's re-evaluating his life, I'm sure.

In the meantime, as a more personal, less informative entry, we're all getting ready for the wedding of Lieutenant Vancoughnett and Grace Harper. They want to have it in the church, but since it's still not whole again, they've put it off once more until the church can be restored to its full glory.

Could be another month or so if the Lieutenant could ever pull himself away from chasing his daughters around or sneaking away with Grace to work on the church. But the work he has done is remarkable, he hand carved the sides of every last pew, putting details in that weren't on the old, simple pews, saints and matyrs, angels and icons. Some think he's nervous about the wedding and trying to put it off, but anyone who really knows the Lieutenant knows he's doing it out of love. Grace adored that church so much, this is just the Lieutenant trying to bring it back to her.

Daryl and Carol are preparing themselves as well, another three months and they'll have a child, Carol's second and Daryl's first. Some people are thinking Daryl is going to be too hard on the child, but in my personal opinion as an outside observer, Daryl is more equipped to be a father than anyone, since he knows what it's like to have a bad one. He's smart enough, too, to know that if he does the opposite of what his own father would do, he'd be one of the best fathers around.

**Current home population: 33 (One added number from Delgado's group, Kowalski is still with us learning sign language, his brother has also expressed an interest in learning so he's remained for a few weeks as well.)**

**Current away population: 0**

**Current forecast: 62º, Sunny**

**Current mood: Unnerved (Michonne has been standing in the doorway of my office for the past ten minutes, polishing the blade of her sword. I'm beginning to wonder if it's a threat. If I don't write in this log again, just know that she's probably a person of interest in the investigation.)**

**Addendum: What does it mean when a woman tells you where she's chosen to sleep? There has to be a significance to this…**

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

****The Lieutenant****

"Daddy?"

"Yes, boo?"

"What are clouds made of?" Annie asked.

They had been lying on their backs for hours, it seemed, listening to the others excitedly telling tales of what they missed and what was new and the news from Atlanta, until the roar of excitement, became a buzz, which faded into a hum, before dying with a whimper.

"_Mais_," he pondered it. "They're…water droplets in the sky."

"Clouds are water?" Olivia demanded from the other side of him.

"But they're white," Annie added. "Water is blue."

"Nuh-uh!" Olivia protested. "Water isn't any colour!"

"Yeah!" Annie said. "It's blue in the ocean and lakes!"

"Clouds are white, because it's frozen water, like tiny snowflakes and ice crystals." The Lieutenant struggled to explain, he wasn't sure he was one hundred percent right, but he knew he was on the right track.

"How do they stay up there? Shouldn't they fall like snow?" Annie asked as they all calmed down.

The Lieutenant pondered this. He always hated when his Mamere gave him 'I don't know' answers, so he didn't want to just give them that, but he also didn't care much for lying to the girls.

"In life," he began slowly, "there are always questions. It's not for me to answer all of them for you. It's up to you to go forth and discover the answers for yourselves."

Smiling, proud of himself, Fate sat up straighter in the grass and eyed Olivia.

"What a load of shit," Annie declared loudly.

"You shouldn't say 'shit', boo," he protested, pulling the girl in close and pecking the top of her head with his chin playfully. "Your ma will blow a gasket hearing you say things like that."

"Why not? It's just a word."

"It's an adult word just for adults." He returned.

"When do I become an adult?" Annie demanded.

"When you turn forty."

"I wouldn't ever say shit, daddy," Olivia pointed out sombrely.

He furrowed his brow at the skyline. "You just said it so that sort of defeats the promise."

"Well, I won't say it again." Olivia insisted.

"_Je t'aime_, daddy," Annie declared loudly.

"_Je t'aime_, boo." He returned with a grin.

Olivia crawled into his lap and took his face in her hands. "_Je t'aime_ more, daddy."

"_Je t'aime plus_," he corrected. It had become habit now for him to teach his girls how to speak, they had learned most of the basics, but this was one they used often and it was usually in competition.

Olivia paused in thought, before asking. "Does that mean more?"

"Yes."

"How do I say 'I love you the most'?" She demanded.

"I love him the most!" Annie growled.

"Nuh-uh!" Olivia argued.

Saved by Daryl who was wandering over with a nervous looking Milton trailing behind, the Lieutenant kissed both his girls on the top of their heads, before standing up.

"What's going on?" He asked as the men approached.

"I'm thinking of heading over to the plantation today to grab a load of fieldstones, you in?" Daryl returned.

"Sure, I have nothing planned. I was going to try to cut some glass to replace the stained glass panels, but I got distracted," he returned, eyeing Milton beyond Daryl. "You alright, Milton?"

"Einstein is coming with us," Daryl said. "We could use the extra pair of hands."

"I'm more capable of obtaining and holding a supervisory position," Milton said. "But Daryl said he'd knock my block off if I didn't help and I don't know which part of me is my block per se, but I'm assuming it's my head and I'm quite fond of it."

"'Yes' isn't in your vocabulary?" Daryl growled. "You need a bigger damned dictionary."

"Will this new dictionary define 'block' for me in terms of how you used it?" Milton shot back. "Because I'd be interested to know for future reference what it is that you threaten to knock off whenever I say something you don't like to hear."

"Why aren't you taking someone more…outdoorsy?" Fate asked as the men started towards one of the trucks.

"My ongoing pursuit of scientific method in a new world ruled by Neanderthal man doesn't make my feelings impervious to being wounded," Milton argued.

Slinging an arm around the little blond, Fate beamed. "I'm sorry, _lapin_, you come with us and we'll teach you the ways of the Neanderthal."

"I've been forever yearning to learn the ways of fire," Milton murmured dryly.

"Mm, fire good, cook meat," the Lieutenant grunted, punching Milton's shoulder companionably.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

"…so I got that goin' for me, which is nice."

They had been travelling down the dirt road heading home from the plantation with a heavy load of fieldstones in the back, Daryl driving the truck, Milton wedged between them. The youngest Dixon brother quiet, eyes narrowed at the road.

"I don't think Christianity works that way," Milton pointed out calmly.

"Why would Gracie say 'God help you' if she wasn't asking a favour of the big man on my behalf?" The Lieutenant shot back with a smirk.

They drove on, Milton floundering to argue that logic with the Lieutenant, Daryl still eyeing the road ahead with a bit of a thoughtful scowl.

"What's going on in that goat head of yours, _cabri_?" The Lieutenant asked after a moment.

Daryl inhaled deeply, but said nothing.

"Let me try guessing then," the Lieutenant teased. "Carol caught you trying on those frilly white drawers of hers and you got—"

"How the hell do know about her drawers?" Daryl snapped.

"Holy hell! I was just guessing!" The Lieutenant barked, laughing at the man's face.

Daryl reached across Milton to grab at the Cajun who doubled over in joy. "Did you wear them too? Was I right all around? Maybe I have psychic powers."

The truck swerved as Daryl took a swipe at the Lieutenant, the Marine huddled up against the door to escape the assault, but was righted by a panicked Milton, who grasped the steering wheel with wide eyes.

Turning back to the road, Daryl scowled darkly at it, the sparkle in his eyes belying his amusement.

"What's really wrong, then?" The Lieutenant asked after a moment.

Daryl cast a nervous glance at Milton, before licking his bottom lip.

"Oh, don't worry about secrets around me," Milton said. "I have no one to tell them to."

Daryl was sullen and quiet for the longest time as they drove, his hands gripping and loosening on the steering wheel, before he began tentatively. "Is…have you noticed things about Grace…like with her pregnancy and shit?"

The Lieutenant was quiet, before nodding. "Yeah, she's got this thing growing inside her stomach right now, sort of a parasite—"

"Fuck it," Daryl snarled.

"Naw, come on. What's up, _cabri_?"

Daryl sniffed and cleared his throat. "Has Grace been…like…insatiable?"

Leaning forward to peer around Milton, the Lieutenant pegged Daryl with a smug look. "_Cabri_," he crooned.

"It's just…" Daryl turned red right up to the tips of his ears, "my fucking dick is chapped as hell."

Milton's head slowly turned to face Daryl, the geeky blond quietly eyeing the rough man.

"I mean, I'm fucking sore," Daryl went on, still as red as a mosquito on a pigs ass. "How do I…you know, tell her to ease up a little."

"Mais," the Lieutenant drawled slowly, "that's a serious problem. Do you avoid the sex or have your dick fall off…"

"You need a substitute," Milton pointed out.

"For sex?" Daryl asked.

"No, for you."

The Lieutenant chuckled. "Pinch hitter."

"Shit no," Daryl snapped. "Fuck!"

"Well," Milton said, pushing his glasses up with his knuckle. "Your other option is to say no to a hormonal Carol."

Daryl shook his head. "Naw, can't say no to her."

"Tell her you sprained it."

"What? My cock?" Daryl demanded.

They pulled down the cattle trail home and reached the gates just behind a military transport, causing the Lieutenant to bolt from the truck before it even stopped, rushing to the side of the transport and jumping onto the runner to peer inside.

"Double Trouble!" Rhoades exclaimed from the back of the transport. Leaning inside as the transport started into the convent grounds slowly, the Cajun laughed jovially. "What brings you all back this way?"

"We were invited for a wedding, I believe," O'Hara said from his place beside Rhoades. "I hope we're not late?"

"Not at all!" As the transport pulled to a stop in front of the church, the Lieutenant leapt down and helped the men out of the transport. "Where's the rest of your men?" He asked O'Hara.

"Stationed nearby, didn't want to overwhelm you here." Fredricks pointed out. "How the hell have you been, Lieutenant?"

"We're good, our people just got home from Atlanta," he returned as Daryl and Milton joined them from their truck, Merle and Andrea coming over from the church. "Found enough to get by on."

"How was Atlanta?" O'Hara asked.

"Dead," Merle greeted with a grin.

"Sergeant Fredricks, Rhoades!" Carol exclaimed, emerging from the church with Grace at her heels and a whole mess of children behind her. "Major O'Hara!" She wrapped both Sergeant's into a tight hug, O'Hara got a warm nod.

Grace also embraced the men sweetly, standing on her tiptoes to pull Fredricks down for a hug.

"You boys look rough," Carol said. "Why don't you come inside and sit, we'll find you something warm to eat."

"You ladies are angels," Fredricks purred, following the women, as O'Hara ensured his men were out of the transport and heading in for a warm meal.

Daryl and the Lieutenant exchanged a look, before Daryl said, "so how long you staying for?"

"To see a wedding," O'Hara said. "Then we'll move along."

"So what's it like?" Glenn asked. "Out there, I mean in the wilds?"

Looking around, Rhoades beamed. "We aren't in the wilds?"

"Different wilds," Glenn said with a shrug.

"Quiet," O'Hara said, getting back to the question. "There's not many people moving about, those left are keeping their heads down somewhat. Minding their own business." He stopped short as Adele stepped over holding Celeste in one hand, her other clasped around Langdon's small hand.

"Major," Adele greeted.

"Amelia?" The man said.

"Adele," she corrected.

Smiling sheepishly, the Major clasped his hands behind his back. "Sorry, Adele, I knew it was something unconventional." Kneeling the man smiled at Langdon. "Hello, little man, I remember you."

The boy blinked at him, before reaching up and taking firm hold of O'Hara's shirt, bunching it in a little fist.

"He…he heard me!" O'Hara exclaimed, looking up at the others.

"I…fixed his hearing aid," Milton said. "Just a new battery and an adjustment in size."

O'Hara beamed. It was one of his rare, broad, shark-like grins. "That's great!"

"So, what else is new from the road?" Andrea asked as they all headed inside.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************georgiapeachs - Daryl would get attached to a home, wouldn't he? Poor baby.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I'm okay with that, Louise totes had Michael Madsen under her belt, so...yeah...(wait, she did, right? Yeah, I'm sure it was her...)******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - I think, if Milton was smart enough, he'd definitely know to have respect for Daryl's temper...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - I'm almost tempted to have them get carried away with building the house and just load it up with stuff.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************You'reMyKindOfTrouble - This story should span a generation, actually. I had many requests for second generation stuff.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itsi3 - And it loves you, I know this because it has told me so! ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Merle's Right Hand - Well, maybe one day Milton will be besties with Daryl...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************ArcheryLefty - I agree. Merle's character potential was totally wasted.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - I may be trying to work on that hook up...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Natalia Vronsky - I think it'll be sweeter to have the doors and windows in their new home. Like a little touch of the old.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Milton is a nerd and I adore him! He's probably more nerdy in this story than he was on the show, but we also didn't get enough of a taste on the show. I crave more! More Milton!******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Yes, there will be a journal entry/diary entry/letter or some form of written log at the beginning of each chapter. This is the new format I'm playing with.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Nerdymomma89 - Aw! Thank you! That's sweet! I appreciate your review! You have a beautiful day, my friend! ^_^******************************************************************************************


	3. Landslide

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><p><strong>Milton's Historical Logs #90<strong>

**Wednesday, July 23, 2014**

O'Hara arrived yesterday evening with six of his men, Sergeant Rhoades and Sergeant Fredricks.

While this is good news to hear that Tennessee and Georgia are otherwise quietened down, I am worried that this calm may precede a storm.

They not only came with good news about the peace of the two states, but that the region seems relatively free of infected. In fact in the past few weeks since the attack on the convent, I haven't seen a single infected walking about.

Granted I don't stray far from the convent.

Daryl has begun work on his new home with the help of his brother and the Lieutenant, who seems more interested in playing his squeezebox than actually helping. I hope no one dies, but…anyways.

I wandered in on Grace and Carol in the kitchens this morning, they were discussing wedding plans. I don't think Grace wants a big wedding, but I know she's eager to have it before she gets too big for her gown (her words not mine.) Carol on the other hand seemed oddly distracted. Of course neither woman noticed me at first, I find people don't tend to notice me much.

Rick's making huge strides in his recovery, but he did have youth on his side. He still seems more interested in Judith and the other children, wanting to remain close to them as though he personally made it his duty to keep watch over the children. No one else seems concerned, but I am worried that this change in personality isn't the only one. I'm only hoping that his changes are mild and not at all negative.

I'm worried about Herschel. Since losing Beth the old man hasn't been quite himself, he's still there, but I sometimes worry he may be heading downhill fast. Mrs. Douglas has been keeping him occupied with small things and St. James, Cash and myself have been playing whist in the infirmary after hours with the old man in the hopes of giving him some distraction, but Herschel is definitely still in a dark place from losing his last daughter. Maybe the wedding will do him good.

If the wedding ever happens.

**Current home population: 39 (Both Kowalski's and O'Hara and his men.)**

**Current away population: 0**

**Current forecast: 63º, Sunny**

**Current mood: Sore (I'm not made for physical labour. Next time Daryl threatens me I'll just say 'no gracias'.)**

**Addendum: I think Merle may actually kill the Lieutenant today. I don't think Merle cares much for zydeco music…**

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

****St. James****

"_Les Mardi Gras s'en vient de tout partout, t__out alentour le tour du moyeu,__  
>Ça passe une fois par an, demandé la charité, quand-même ça c'est une patate, une patate ou des gratons<em>."

"I swear I'm gonna choke that French turd out," Merle snarled.

Posted against the infirmary wall, St. James watched Merle as he raged at the Lieutenant nearby who was idly pushing and pulling on his squeezebox and crooning.

Merle, who – it seemed – was doing less than nothing at the moment, seemed easily disturbed by traditional Cajun music, which amused St. James and his fellow medical staff who had emerged from their sterile cave to listen to the music as a distraction from the beige nothing that had become life at the convent.

Sipping at his mug of coffee, a rare commodity and growing rarer by the day, St. James watched the Cajun as he smirked knowingly and continued his singing, playing oblivious to Merle's obvious irritation.

He supposed the Lieutenant was looking for a good fight after a few weeks of nothing but idle leisure.

Someone could die and St. James almost looked forward to it.

The Lieutenant wasn't the only one who was bored.

Daryl was working on his new home and from the looks of the foundation, it was going to be a masterpiece, four basic rooms, fieldstone foundation, even a root cellar for emergencies.

Turning his mug around and around in his hands, St. James studied the convent grounds, paying close attention to Adele and the Major. The poor woman was going to break her heart over that O'Hara, but there wasn't much St. James could say about it, Adele was her own woman.

Still he watched them carefully.

O'Hara seemed nice enough, but he was unavailable to the world, it was obvious by the way he cut himself off physically from it.

Although he couldn't really talk, Adele needed a companion, not a lover, she wasn't ready for that, but she needed warmth and friendship and St. James wasn't able to provide that properly to her.

But he still wasn't sure about O'Hara either. It could only end in heartbreak with that one.

"_Les Mardi Gras sont dessus un grand voyage, t__out alentour le tour du moyeu,__  
>Ça passe une fois par an, demandé la charité, quand-même ça c'est un poule maigre, ou trois ou quatre coton maïs<em>."

"Cajun dick," Merle growled.

Everyone stopped what they were doing as Carol, Michonne and Grace approached, the two pregnant women swollen and beautiful, but also dangerous.

"Merle, honey, let him have his fun," Grace pleaded on behalf of her man. "He rarely gets the chance."

Merle acquiesced to the woman, offering her a small, mischievous grin.

St. James smiled warmly at Carol as she moved to stand beside him against the wall. She looked from him to Adele and O'Hara and back again.

He quirked a brow, but the woman merely smiled again and rubbed his upper arm.

The thought occurred to him then, that because he came from Adele's people, because he looked after her there to the best of his abilities (it was hard with thirty men watching him), that perhaps they thought he would be the one to hold Adele's affections. The truth was, the woman wasn't ready for anything serious and St. James wasn't the man she deserved.

Looking then from Carol to Daryl, St. James raised both his eyebrows in inquiry and Carol smiled sheepishly. She had admitted to him under doctor-patient confidentiality during her last check up, that her sex drive had been insatiable lately. Now it was a private joke they shared and he enjoyed that closeness to the woman. Carol was unlike any creature he had met as of yet, she was so pure and kind even after all the hell that had fallen upon them.

He would be honoured to be considered a close friend of hers.

Maybe it was because they had both lost a child. Carol, her beautiful angel of a daughter and he with his toddler son.

Well, he assumed his son was long gone. There was no real point in going home to check, not if he was going to walk into a scene of horror so black that it would taint his soul.

No, Brandon was dead. St. James' mother was dead, there was no one left at home for him to return to.

Of course, he didn't tell anyone about Brandon. His son was his own cherished secret, something his heart would hold on to, something his heart would keep safely locked away where he could pull it out at Christmas and on Brandon's birthday to dust off and air out fondly.

Spying Adele parting with O'Hara for the dorms, where he knew she would be putting Langdon and Celeste down for their midday nap, St. James downed his coffee and started off after her, with the excuse of returning the mug to the kitchens.

He paused by O'Hara who was helping Glenn and Layla clean weapons on the front lawn and knelt beside the Major, eyes on the trees beyond the convent walls.

"Hot today," he greeted calmly.

O'Hara nodded.

Glenn and Layla looked up at the two men, before Layla smiled and wiped her hands on the front of her loose dress, before pushing to her feet. Glenn was close on her tail, following the beautiful woman into the church.

O'Hara watched them go calmly, blinking at the backs of them, before turning patient eyes on St. James.

"I like you, Major," St. James said. "But I adore Adele."

O'Hara quirked a brow, but said nothing.

"She needs nurturing and growth, but before she can blossom, she needs to be tended to gently."

The soldier was quiet for a moment, offering the former Air Force medic to contemplate his next words carefully.

"I don't care if you return her interest, but I do care whether or not—"

"I see," O'Hara said, his voice distant as though carried through a great mountain train tunnel. Steadily, the man pushed to his feet and stood awkwardly for a moment, hands twitching at his side, before he turned sharply and marched off, heading for the gate.

St. James watched the man hop up onto the wall with a frown, unsure whether his talk was successful or not.

Finally he stood up and headed into the dorms where Adele had disappeared, hoping to find her and feel her mental state out.

Maybe he was prying a little into her personal life, but he honestly felt responsible for her heart. It was so fragile, so innocent and beautiful despite the hell her 'father' had put her through.

The sound of someone singing a Fleetwood Mac song in a sweet, arid Cajun tone had him stopping at a particular room and lingering in the doorway, watching as Adele (much like her brother) crooned lovingly to the children in her charge.

The woman was perched on the edge of a bed, hand rubbing circles in Langdon's chest, soothing the boy's soft hiccupping cries as he drifted into an angry nap.

Setting his empty coffee mug on a nearby icon pedestal, St. James folded his arms and leaned in the doorway, smiling at Adele's sweet singing.

"I'm not saying we need to revolt or anything," Andrea's voice disturbed his enjoyment of the song as the woman passed by him in the hall, side by side with Cash. "But we really need to establish some sort of leader before we fall prey to more attacks."

"Who the hell is gonna attack us?" Cash demanded. "Think we killed everyone within a hundred miles of Georgia…"

Quirking a brow at the two, he turned back to enjoying Adele's singing to find the woman facing him from her spot on the bed, quietly watching him just standing in the doorway.

He straightened. "I was…looking for a good excuse to be creeping around the doorway," he explained sheepishly.

She smiled and motioned him inside.

St. James stepped into the room.

Adele continued to gently soothe Langdon's mewling. "He's decided to attach himself firmly to Major O'Hara," she said with a gentle smile.

St. James nodded. "O'Hara is…different."

"He's kind," she said.

"He's…different."

Adele looked at him with her large grey eyes. "You don't like him?"

"I…do like him, actually, I just…don't want to get too attached to him."

She tilted her head.

"In case he…well he's in a dangerous position, you know?"

The Lieutenant burst in quietly, which seemed to St. James a feat to accomplish, but the six-something giant Cajun looked like he was about to explode.

"I'm getting married," he hissed.

"Yes," St. James replied.

"Tomorrow, you'll be there, yeah?"

"We…couldn't find an excuse not to even if we wanted," St. James returned.

"Stag night tonight," the Cajun stated, pointing at the medic. "Karaoke, drinking and Mrs. Douglas said she'd strip, so bring your greenbacks." He took two steps to his sister, pecked her on the top of her head and hurried out.

St. James took a moment.

"Did he say Mrs. Douglas—"

"Yes," he confirmed.

"I suppose we make do with what we have," she pointed out softly.

"I'm more curious about where he thinks we're going to find the gear for karaoke," St. James murmured.

"Don't underestimate my brother," Adele said, adoration in her voice. "He's brilliant."

Leaning against the wall, he returned to his silent vigil as Adele continued crooning to the children. He wondered briefly if he should continue trying to gently warn her of O'Hara and the precarious situation she could find herself in with him, but decided against it for the moment. Adele was happy and he couldn't be the one to bring her heart down from soaring once more.

Instead he turned his mind to wondering whether or not Carol and Daryl would officially marry now. Maybe when Daryl saw the Lieutenant marrying, it would encourage him to do so. Not that St. James needed them to marry, but he would welcome as many celebrations as the convent could have.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itsi3 -**** I think we can all agree that insatiable Carol is perhaps the best problem Daryl could have.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - As always, you seem to be on my trail. ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I seriously think Michonne enjoys the hunt more than the actual stringing up and gutting of her prey. Hehe.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************georgiapeachs - I seriously would love it if there was a whole box of sex toys just sitting around in the bowels of the dormitory cellar...like this thought haunts my every waking minute.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - My mom too. 'I love you more' is the sweetest thing I can imagine. I don't know why. *sap*******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - Milton, always practical, but never prepared for street wise situations.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************DarylDixon'sLover - Thank you.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Daryl and the Lt are so much like brothers at this point, I love the idea of them physically tousling and fighting like giant kids and Carol and Grace having to break it up.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - I agree. That poor boy is in for a huge shock.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Yikes! You are a brave soul for reading GD&S, BCB and JtCR in two days...my hat is off to you, my friend! And thank you for the sweet review! You're a beautiful human being! I hope good things come your way! ^_^******************************************************************************************


	4. Road To Nowhere

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><p><strong>Spot Report - Major Henry O'Hara<br>**

**Wednesday, July 23, 2014**

Returned to The Convent at 1400 and change, came in from the North with the wind in our faces. All seems well.

The group that had entered Atlanta under Carl Grimes' command has returned without any casualties. From reports from members of the group the supplies they found will see them safely through the winter and into the Spring.

Their former commander, Rick Grimes, father of Carl, seems to have handed his command over and the spot for leadership is up in the air. No one seems interested.

Heard ripples and murmurs amongst members of The Convent group that Andrea Harrison, a member of the original Atlanta group is displeased with this lack of leadership and wishes to nominate herself for position of commander.

No word yet on how many amongst The Convent's people feel about this.

My own men are still well supplied, but I am worrying about winter.

Will tell Sergeant Fredricks that we'll head into Nashville next time we're in Tennessee, see if we can scrounge up the same kind of supplies Carl did.

I'm beginning to think we may need to find a place and settle enough to plant crops and a garden next year. We can't keep living off of scraps and road rations.

By 1500 today I learned that Lieutenant Lafayette Vancoughnett IV will be commencing with his plans of marrying the former Mother Superior of this convent, Grace Harper. My men and I will remain long enough to take part in this celebration, not only because we've been asked by the Lieutenant, who is a good Marine and close personal friend of Sergeant Rhoades', but because the leave may be invigorating for my men.

I have to find a way to shake that Marine Rhoades from my ass, the man is a menace and I'm not entirely convinced he earned his rank.

My concern as of late has been whether or not to worry The Convent with our discovery in Northern Tennessee, to be honest I'm not entirely sure how to handle it myself. I did not have the heart to tell them that the rest of my men are not stationed nearby, but still up in Tennessee tracking leads on whoever caused the fire, and what exactly happened on that farm.

For the time being, I suppose, until the wedding, I will hold my tongue and keep my vigilance.

I'm curious here at The Convent as to where this St. James came from and why he has taken to watching me lately. I've heard from others through casual inquiries that he was a member of the Air Force and had been swept up by the group that came before us, a group – I've been told – of rapists and murderers. Common road house rabble who wanted to watch the world burn, my understanding is that both Adele Deveau and St. James come from this group.

I don't like the idea that St. James, innocent hostage or not, is allowed to wander free without due punishment for taking up arms with such a group.

Maybe he just unnerves me. I don't appreciate being scrutinized by a flightless goose.

**Update as of 1600 **– I understand now why St. James kept his eye on me so closely. He wandered over casually and informed me that this young Adele Deveau has taken a liking to me. I did not encourage any affection and will do my best to release her back into the wild without breaking her. Mine is not a life of affection or fondness, but duty to my men and what's left of my country.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

****Daryl****

"_Cabri_."

Stopping halfway through loading up a truck, Daryl pulled himself out from the cab and watched the approaching Cajun quietly.

Grinning from ear to ear, the taller man dropped his pack on the ground and knelt to dig through it.

"I was thinking of your problem, you know, the one with our angel and I thought maybe you could use this," he glanced around before pulling a slim purple hunk of silicon from his pack, offering it up to Daryl with shining eyes.

Feeling his face grow red, Daryl looked around, before snarling, "why the hell do you think—"

"To save your dick," the Lieutenant explained.

"Okay, so why are you carrying it around in your pack?" He demanded.

"Because I can't just store this with the rest of the supplies, no Merle and I put these special supplies in the woods under a pile of branches. Almost got my ass chewed on by a fucking possum getting this for you," the Cajun wiggled the thing at Daryl who still eyed it like it was a loaded gun. "Take it, _cabri_, before one of the little ones comes scurrying."

Debating internally whether he should touch the thing or just leave the Cajun hanging, Daryl sighed and shifted on his feet.

"It's brand new, Merle and I raided a sex shop a few towns over a week or two before we left for Louisiana."

"I don't care, I'm not touching that fucking thing and why the hell were you raiding a sex shop with Merle?!"

"For times like this? And don't be such a child," the Lieutenant stated. "I'm not asking you to stuff it up your ass. Trust me, _cabri_, it'll save you wear and tear on your wee Dixon."

"I'm trying to wrap my head around the fact that you're giving me a rubber dick to give to Carol," Daryl said, still red as a beet.

"I could cut out the middle man and just give it to her myself," the Lieutenant pointed out quickly.

Taking the thing gingerly between his thumb and forefinger, Daryl looked around for something to hide it in and came up with an old plastic grocery bag shoved under the seat of the truck. He wrapped the purple dick up tight and then wrapped the bag in a greasy towel, before shooting Fay a withering look.

"Batteries are included, _cabri_!" Fay shouted after him as Daryl tore off across the convent lawns for the dorms where Carol had put their sleeping bag in the corner of Grace and Fay's room until their home was finished.

Inside the dorm room, he shoved the thing into his personal pack, pushing it way down to the very bottom.

"Where are you going?"

He jumped up and turned to find Carol and Grace standing in the doorway.

"What?" He demanded.

"We saw you packing up the truck," Carol explained.

"Oh, just heading into town for supplies." He hoped to God they didn't see what Fay had shoved at him.

"For this silly Cajun party that redwood of mine is throwing?" Grace inquired.

Daryl shrugged. "We could use some stuff for it, sure."

"Is Mrs. Douglas really going to strip?" Carol asked with a grin. "I kind of want to see that."

For the second time in ten minutes, Daryl flushed bright red.

"Seems she made a solemn promise to Lafayette, that crazy old woman," Grace sighed. "I think she's sweet on him."

"Well, I guess it wouldn't be a bachelor party if there wasn't a stripper," Carol pointed out. "And since neither of us are in any condition to strip for him…"

"Aw now, girls," the Lieutenant said as he moved to stand behind them in the doorway. "You're both still beautiful enough to give any pro exotic dancer a run for her money."

They both turned to look at him disapprovingly, causing the Cajun to flash them one of his winning grins, the one that irked Daryl's inner jealousy monster.

"What do you say, magpie?" The Lieutenant teased, tweaking Grace's chin. "Wanna earn a few hundred dollars for a night?"

"I'd rather run off and find another man to marry," the woman shot back sternly.

"You know women have bachelorette parties, Lieutenant," Carol pointed out. "Maybe we should be soliciting you to bare all for our cheap entertainment."

"Trust me, _ange_, I wouldn't be cheap," Fay shot back.

"I'm not having a silly party," Grace said firmly. "Bunch of women gathering around and clucking about men, sounds like any night at the bonfire when the brutes are out and about."

"Really?" Carol asked.

Daryl could hear the disappointment in her voice and he glanced over at Fay, catching the man's eye.

The Cajun stepped in on his behalf with a smirk. "Doesn't matter, _ange_, you come to my party and pretend to be a brute for a night, yeah? Chromosomes mean nothing at a Cajun stag party."

Giving the man a thankful nod, Daryl stepped away from their corner and headed for the woman at the door, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"See?" He said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him gently. "You'll have fun."

"Now," the Lieutenant said, "you two get the hell out of our room, I'm gonna show this lady how exotic my dancing can be."

Grace flushed prettily like a pink rose and slapped his chest. "Show some manners to our guests, you wolf!"

"Or they could stay and watch," the Lieutenant growled, scooping Grace up. "I really don't care either way."

Daryl and Carol both stepped back from the door and closed it quickly.

In the dim hall, Daryl glanced over at Carol and found her chuckling softly. He smiled and took her hand in his.

They walked away from the room quickly, heading for the sunshine at the end of the hall.

"So, you're heading out?" Carol asked as they strolled in the sunshine, his large, rough hand wrapped securely around her tiny, rough one.

He nodded. "I'm thinking we'll need some things for this party. The damned Cajun wants karaoke, but he seems to think it'll fly out of his ass, maybe we'll try that cowboy bar in town, seems like one of those places that usually have a karaoke night. Then we'll grab some booze while we're there."

"You big softie," she teased.

He scowled and rubbed muddy gack off his pants with the palm of his hand. "Naw, just needs to be done. Make the big dumb ass happy."

"He's like a giant great Dane puppy."

He snorted.

They paused by the truck, still hand in hand, watching Rick as he slowly moved after Annie and Olivia as the girls raced for the tree swing.

Daryl scowled. The man still hadn't come back to them completely. He seemed like an entirely different man, quiet and withdrawn. Beyond them, near the gate, the soldier's makeshift camp was quiet, the men of O'Hara's company lingering around their fire and dozing in their tents, resting easy in the safety of the convent walls, the Major himself was sitting high on the wall where he had planted since earlier that day.

"He's happy," Carol remarked. "He deserves to be happy."

Daryl nodded.

"What about you?" She asked, bumping him playfully with her shoulder.

He rocked on his feet, still eyeing the going's on around them. "Yeah, I'm happy."

It was hard for him to admit that, whenever he did in the past shit happened that fucked him over.

Carol smiled and watched Glenn and Merle as they approached. "Me too."

Smiling shyly at Carol, he dipped his head. "Good."

"Yep."

"Going somewhere?" Merle asked.

"Can we come?" Glenn pleaded. "I'm bored as hell."

"Ooh, me too!" Cash exclaimed from behind them. "Shotgun!"

As the blond made a dive into the cab of the truck, Merle caught him by the ass of his pants and yanked him out, throwing him backwards.

"I always have shotgun," Merle rasped, climbing into the truck. "You and Short Round can ride in the back."

Carol and Daryl exchanged a look.

"Just like children," she muttered.

Again he dipped his head. "Yep."

She touched his arm and tugged him down for a quick kiss, before waddling off towards the infirmary.

Daryl watched her for a moment, smiling a little at the sway of her ass and the ease with which her hips rolled. He couldn't deny she was very beautiful in her easy femininity. Carol didn't need frilly dresses or makeup to be a woman, she just was, it came to her naturally. As easy as breathing.

"Get your goddamned elbow out of my crotch, you crab infested dick!" Merle growled behind him.

"It's so cold riding in the back!" Cash protested. "Let me just sit in your lap!"

Deciding he would leave them all in town to walk their asses back, Daryl climbed into the driver's seat, ignoring Merle and Cash who were still fighting in the passenger seat and Glenn who huddled far from the fight to avoid a stray limb in his face and twisted the key in the ignition with a little satisfying burst of irritated rage.

As they drove towards the gate, Merle got the passenger door open and Cash went tumbling out onto the grassy gravel.

Daryl didn't even slow down.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - I agree. I don't think the Caryl relationship is like our Lace babies. They don't need a marriage to be together. And I'm sure if Grace wasn't Catholic, the Lt wouldn't care one way or the other either.  
><strong>****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************DarylDixon'sLover - I hope it will be!******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - Between Milton and his logbook? Yeah, it's true love.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I agree. I want Milton to get the love and adoration he deserves.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Oh, Mrs. Douglas is most definitely gonna strip! ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Milton's logs will be ongoing here and there. He is one of the most observant and fastidious characters.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Oh, you will not be disappointed by the stag party.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Good question. Why is Merle in a grumpy mood...?******************************************************************************************


	5. Annie's Song

**Head's up. Merle is Merle in this chapter. So...be forewarned. Also my spellcheck had a crap attack over Annie's essay, so enjoy the cause of its meltdown!**

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><p><strong>Essay on My Home by Annie Louise Miller (Age 8)<strong>

This is my essay on my home. Im riting it because Antie Carol said I had to, but I dont like riting becuz its hard. I wanted to rite about my dog Boo, becuz she is a gud dog, but mama said that I have to lissen to Antie Carol and do my homewerk.

My home is big, it goes all the way from one wall to the other and theirs about a brillion grasses.

Theirs a church, its big. I dont like Jeezus looking down at me becuz hes got bloods on him and one time Olivea said that she saw him wink at us. I shud get daddy to throw Jeezus over the wall so that the monsters can eat him. I dont trust winking Jeezus. But dont tell mama that, she mite get mad.

Antie Carol gives hugs, mama gives me long talks about stuff. Daddy said its' becuz mama came from the brier pach. But dont tell her he said that, shell give him a long talk too.

Then my home has a lot of people who are nice. I like Glen the best, he sits and tells me stuff, but Olivea said that Glen is her boyfrend.

Olivia is stoopid.

And then theirs Rik, hes quiet now and he used to be fun. He has a litle gurl named Judith and Carl.

I live in the door ums with my mama and daddy, their not really my mama and daddy, but they are now. I cant member much about my old mama and daddy, Hershell said its gud becuz it mite hert me more to member them.

My mama is butifull. She has blue eyes and black hair with grey in it. I wish I looked like her insted of me becuz Im an ugly trol Olivea said so.

My daddy is big. He has big feet and ruff hands.

Unkel Darel is my faverut two. Hes grumpy but he always lets me hug him. I like hugs. He went out today with Unkel Meril and Glen to get things. Kash fell out of the truk. It was funny. Olivea and me laffed for owers.

Today is a specul day becuz Majer Ohaira is here and I like to look at the men with him becuz they were green and I think of daddy when I see them. When I grow up I want to be a man who weres green. Majer Ohaira said that I could be whatever I want to be when I grow up and so I told him I want to be a man in green. Majer Ohaira has pridy eyes and he smells like nite rain but Im not supposed to touch him. Mabe Ill make him my boyfrend and Olivea can be stoopid with Glen.

Oh, also today is a specul day becuz daddy and mama are gunna get marrid. So that daddy can call mama his wif and mama can call him her huzbin.

When I grow up tho Im gunna marry Rik becuz he needs hugs. Daddy said I cud hug anyone I want becuz I have my own jujmint and its' gud. I think hugs are nice.

Oh unkel Meril is my faverut two. He has a big hand and then a nife on the other arm. Sometimes he says bad werds but I cant rite them here. But one of them is fuk. He says that a lot.

Nadeer is my frend. But hes also stoopid. Daddy says cool yawns are danjerus. Cool yawn means stoopid in my daddys speak. And that's Nadeer and Olivea.

Theirs Kash and Lala and Mary Clar and Mary Agniz and Tyris and Sasha and Andrea and Mishon and I love them all.

My home also has an infermery and its were Saint James lives with Miltun and Missus Duglass. Sometimes Hershell lives there two. One time I saw a monster gunna eat the infermery but then Saint James and Miltun punshed it becuz their strawn. Mama said it never happined but it did and I saw it!

Unkel Meril could punsh things but then hed stab them insted becuz he has a nife arm. Its pridy cool.

My home also has a swing.

The End

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

****Glenn****

They were walking in the goddawful damp heat for an hour, going door-to-door in the town searching for booze and other tidbits for a party.

Daryl took to the bar on his own to load the karaoke equipment, while Merle and Glenn wandered around for various things, Merle claiming that they had to find something for the Lieutenant.

At first Glenn thought Merle was threatening or fucking with him, but after a few places, it seemed the oldest Dixon was intent on actually finding something suitable.

"Ain't everyday a coonass actually marries the woman he pops," Merle growled when Glenn asked him about the hunt. "Gotta celebrate the breaking of backwater bayou tradition. Besides, I'll say one thing for the Cajuns, they have parties that live on in infamy. You can bet your tits we'll all get laid."

"By women, right?" Glenn teased.

Merle paused and turned to Glenn. "Jesus, let's hope."

Beaming at the companionable comfort zone he seemed to have reached with the man, Glenn pushed open a door carefully and stepped into the cooler climate of a home.

The home was styled nicely, probably a household belonging to someone of importance in the small town, like mayor or maybe the local doctor or something. Glenn kept his eyes open for something nice to decorate the wolves den with. The other men might like their underpants airing on every available surface, but Glenn yearned for something a little nicer.

But not too nice, he didn't need Merle tormenting him about wanting a…whatever. Like a houseplant that somehow survived or something.

Not that he was expecting a houseplant to have survived, the ones he saw so far were pretty desiccated.

But maybe a nice fake one or something.

Merle was picking up a pair of decent looking boots from by the doorway and eyeballing them up for size for his feet. Glenn saw the perfect thing for Grace's wedding gift just beyond the burly man and made a mad dash for it.

Plucking the pretty Madonna off the sidetable in the front hall, he smiled a little and held it up to Merle who was scowling at him.

"Wedding gift for Grace," Glenn explained. "You think?"

Merle shrugged. "Doesn't matter what we get her, the woman will say she loves it."

Glenn smiled at the Virgin Mary statue and nodded. "But she'll like this one, though."

"Whatever," Merle moved off into the next room, stuffing his new boots into the pack at his side.

Following Merle, cradling his find, Glenn found the kitchen to be in disarray, obviously someone had already been here and it most likely could have been someone from their group.

But it wasn't the cupboards Merle was interested in, but the still locked cabinet above the peninsula.

"Liquor cabinet?" Glenn asked.

"Or something that needs locking up," Merle said. "Obviously didn't interest whoever ransacked this place."

"Probably liquor."

"Nah," Merle said. "They would have grabbed it for Herschel in the infirmary."

"Maybe this place was overlooked?"

"Unless an idiot like Cash was put in charge of it, then I doubt that." Merle busted the lock off with a nearby rolling pin. "Could be though."

Inside the cabinet was a few half empty bottles of wine and whiskey, enough for someone to get tanked, but not enough for a party.

Merle stuffed them into his pack as well, before they tread carefully into the next room.

"Can I ask you something?" Glenn asked as they searched the dining room.

Merle grunted.

Taking that as a go ahead, Glenn licked his bottom lip and said, "you think you'd ever get married? I mean, times being what they are and all."

"Shit no," Merle said. "Not the type."

"Not even if you…you know? Fell in love?"

Merle scowled darkly at him. "You were getting on my good side, but now, I dunno, you're a pussy again."

Glenn frowned. "It's not an insult, have you seen the size of babies, fucking hell, Merle!"

Merle laughed at the younger man. "Alright, pull your tampon out, it's up too far in there."

Still seething a bit, Glenn hugged his found treasure a little closer to his chest and shrugged. "It's just…you know. Look how excited we all are about this wedding. Like, something good is happening for once."

"So? The sun rises every goddamned morning, Short Round, it's a fucking miracle," Merle snapped.

"Never mind," Glenn snarled.

Merle laughed again and slung his blade arm around Glenn's shoulders. "Listen, it is good that the Cajun is making an honest woman of Grace and it's even nicer that I can get tanked off my ass and maybe punch a fucker in the mouth tonight, but we could do that any night if we wanted."

"Yeah, but we don't."

"Because we have shit to do."

"So, then it is nice to have a wedding, right?"

"Sure. But not for the ceremony, for the party. I could care less if God gets his rocks off by witnessing some words and shit. You know Grace and coonass would be together regardless, only it's what Grace wants."

They fell back into rummaging through the house.

"You really aren't going to punch someone tonight, are you?" Glenn asked.

"I'm a complex man, Short Round," Merle drawled with a grin. "Some nights the dragon takes me, some nights I take the dragon."

"Yeah," Glenn agreed, before the words registered. "Wait, what?" He demanded as they pushed into the master bedroom.

"I bet there's kinky shit here," Merle stated, kicking aside a heap of dried skin and bones. "Oh, I'm getting Grace something to satisfy her needs better than the coonass ever will."

Glenn looked down at the Madonna he clutched. "You're getting her a used sex toy?"

"Or porn," Merle said. "Women like that shit, right?"

"Merle, she used to be a nun."

"Wait, didn't I scrounge a bunch of dildos with that coonass from somewhere?" Merle murmured to himself, ignoring Glenn and sort of phasing out, his eyes focused on the middle distance. "Where'd we put them? Shit…"

"I'm pretty sure the Lieutenant doesn't like it when you call him coo…that word," Glenn said.

"Jesus, I can't even remember where we stashed them," Merle shook his head. "Maybe I'll just add my name to whatever pansy assed shit Carol finds for her and Daryl to give the old girl. Now, something for the coonass." Merle got to his knees and dug under the bed.

Glenn dropped the Madonna as Merle gave a shout and fought with something under the bed. Dropping to his knees to help the man in a wild panic, Glenn pulled his gun and aimed it under the bed.

Merle sat up with a grin, holding both arms up. "Shit yourself?"

"I fucking hate you," Glenn huffed.

"You broke your gift," Merle pointed out, helping himself to one of the bottles of whiskey.

"You dick." Glenn snarled.

Merle offered Glenn the bottle with a smirk. "Come on, Short Round, let's dig into the firewater early and say 'fuck it' to worrying about gifts."

"That's incredibly racist," Glenn muttered taking a swig of whiskey and trying hard not to react to how bad it burned going down.

"Do you even know me?" Merle demanded taking the bottle back.

They sat there for a while polishing off the bottle, before Merle picked up the head of the Virgin Mary and set it on a nearby bedside table to look down at them as they got a little pre-buzzed for the party.

Glenn tried to hide the grin at the action, but failed.

"Fuck it," Merle stated. "It was ugly as shit anyways. One less religious creep to stare at me when I'm trying to squeeze some nun ass."

Smiling at the Dixon, Glenn kicked Mary's body away to make space for his legs as he stretched them out before him.

"So you and Sister Joan?" Glenn asked.

"None of your fucking business," Merle snapped. "No."

"Mary Claire?"

"Agnes."

This shocked Glenn, Mary Agnes didn't seem the type Merle would go for. He always thought Merle would be the shallow type and go for younger and prettier. Hell, if Sister Elizabeth had lived, he would have gone to her first.

"Think Daryl would ever—"

"No."

"But Carol—"

"Nah, them two don't need the fucking validation of a marriage."

"But maybe—"

"Nope." Merle pushed Mary's head enough to get it wobbling back and forth precariously. "You? Ever going to let some woman tie you down?"

Glenn shrugged. "Probably not."

"Come on," Merle said. "You hooked up with that girl of yours for what? Like a month or two?"

"All winter."

"Still. You weren't clipped like a gelding, were you?"

"I…don't…know." Glenn replied, not sure what that even meant.

"So, you find yourself another and move on."

He shrugged. "I loved her though."

"I love whiskey, but I'm not going to pass up the chance to take a swig of beer," Merle rasped, taking a swallow of the amber liquid. "Trust me, Short Round, you'll find yourself another one. Women are a dime a dozen these days and guess what? You're one of the last men left alive, so…you have that goin' for you, which is nice."

"Is that how you landed one?" Glenn asked with a cheeky grin.

"The woman ain't blind," Merle stated. "She took a look and had her pick."

"Oh, so you're the prize hog."

"Listen here you little shit," Merle began.

For a moment Glenn thought the man was going to take a swing.

Instead, Merle took another swig of whiskey and tucked the bottle away. "Better save this for later," he explained, pushing to his feet.

"I'm the one you're going to punch in the mouth later, aren't I?" Glenn asked meekly.

"Naw, I'm saving that for Cash."

"If he's still alive after you road rolled him."

"If he isn't, then I'm going to punch his corpse, walking around or not."

Glenn beamed.

"This is going to be a party to end all parties," Merle reassured him as they headed out of the room.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************DarylDixon'sLover - Um...indeed?******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - For you? A chapter on giving the D to C? Got it! Whatever you wish, my friend!******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - Who doesn't love their Caryl moments? And you know the Lt is gonna be happy as a clam over Mrs. Douglas stripping.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - Cash is like a cockroach, you can't really kill him...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Everything? Nothing? Sit here and eat cheetos in my underpants? Ponder the existence of rubber bands and if they feel pain when snapped against someone?******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - I could only imagine Daryl's initial panic over the Lt holding a penis shaped purple monstrosity up at him.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - I accept your mental image of the Lt and Clyde fighting for scratchies and see you a mental image of the Lt curled up at the bottom of Daryl and Carol's bed, his leg twitching as he dreamed of chasing rabbits.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Oh, I know exactly what you were getting at. You weren't exactly subtle. ^_^******************************************************************************************


	6. Southern Angel

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><p><strong>Milton's Historical Logs #93<strong>

**Friday, July 25, 2014**

Tonight we celebrate the Lieutenant's upcoming marriage to Grace with a bachelor party. Supposedly there will be karaoke and Mrs. Douglas has volunteered to strip (confirmation most definitely needed.)

I have been tasked with set up. The excess power from my solar cells will be put into this night and since there's a bit of a breeze, I'm going to try to get my wind turbine working to give us some extra juice, but it's not big nor is it very powerful, I could only attach it to the precarious cross at the top of the church in order to get proper wind over the trees.

Rick has offered to help me with set up. I accepted. The man seems to be floating about looking for a place. He most certainly isn't interested in leadership anymore, not even interested in giving anyone advice or orders.

But he's good at helping, follows orders, does what he's told, keeps quiet and works hard.

I do sometimes wish he would come back to us completely though. Despite the fact that I fear I am a ghost among my own people, I often worry about them to the appropriate degree anyone would. We're stronger as a whole and if one person is weak, we all feel the effects.

I'm afraid I don't possess the social skill it would take to bring Rick back to us completely. Maybe the Lieutenant or Carol, though Daryl and even Merle seem to be coming along fine in their social skills.

Merle, surprisingly enough, has become one of our most reliable people. Only just the other day he approached me and we held a fairly amiable chat, which for Merle was a huge step. I actually found him to be smarter than I gave him credit. When we were at Woodbury together I had merely thought him to be a brute. The muscle of Philip's schemes, but I was mistaken then as I have been these past few months.

Andrea has been worrying me lately. She's been talking to people, filling them with doubt and worry over our leadership and our future. I'm not saying that we shouldn't worry that we don't have someone to tell us exactly where we are heading, I only wish she wouldn't do it in such a subversive manner. It could only cause turmoil and possibly even revolt.

Since I'm not a seditionist, I will gladly make a note of it to Carol or possibly Grace, the two women seem to be the ones to go to for things like this.

**Current home population: 396 (Both Kowalski's and O'Hara and his men still present.)**

**Current away population: 3 (Daryl, Glenn and Merle went out for supplies.)**

**Current forecast: 60º, Partly Sunny**

**Current mood: Busy**

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

****Michonne****

Inside the church was cool and deliciously dark, the only light coming through the stained glass, throwing colours onto the freshly scrubbed floor.

The lush red carpet had been removed due to fire damage, leaving the aisle somehow bare looking.

Rick stood at the front of the church quietly unrolling an extension cord, his back to her.

"Where's Milton?" She asked. "I thought he was on set up."

The man angled his head to her. "I don't know. Stepped out."

Michonne hummed and took a seat in one of the pews, her katana sheath clunking against the wood.

Rick worked on quietly, he walked with a somewhat stalled gait, his one leg dragging only a little.

"You know if we really wanted to," Milton burst into the church from the back door, arms full of electrical equipment, "we could harvest a lot of wind power, if we could only get up over those trees. Build a—" he stopped mid-sentence, spying her sitting amongst them and dropped his equipment onto the floor. "I'll be right back."

The blond man hustled from the church like a mouse scurrying along the floorboards of a room, causing Michonne to grin.

Rick angled his face to her again.

She shrugged. "What? A little cat and mouse never hurt nobody."

"He know you're only playing?" Rick demanded.

"Who said I was playing?"

The man fell silent again, kneeling to sort through the equipment.

Michonne moved to help him, knowing how he still had a few mobility issues. She hated to see the man in such a state. He used to be pretty damned impressive, lanky, with wolf eyes and a real commanding presence. Now he was hollow, like his skin was parchment and nothing resided beneath it.

"I think he's cute," she said. "For a white boy."

Rick didn't say anything, just continued to sort through the wires and cords and adapters Milton had brought.

"Having settled here, maybe a woman's natural instinct is to settle her heart too," she suggested.

Rick still didn't say anything.

She narrowed her eyes at him, deciding that if he was going to play the quiet game, she wouldn't ruin the moment by chatting any further.

They worked together quietly, before Milton returned, this time he was struggling under the weight of an amp, Daryl following behind with a speaker.

"You found a machine then?" Michonne greeted, helping Milton with the amp.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. Got everything, even found some booze."

She beamed. "The Lieutenant'll be happy."

"I hope so, moving these speakers on my own was a real bitch," Daryl said.

Michonne didn't miss the quiet, studious look Daryl gave Rick, nor did she miss the way Rick quietly wandered away and out into the growing dusk.

"He needs snap out of it," Daryl growled.

Michonne sighed. "He's been beat."

"Rick ain't ever beat."

"When Agamemnon took from Achilles the maiden Brisbeis, the great warrior sulked in his tent for days," Milton said from his place on the floor behind the speaker.

"So?" Daryl demanded.

"It took the death of his beloved brother-in-arms Patroclus to ignite the fire of war inside Achilles chest," Milton went on.

"But re-joining the war ultimately meant the end of Achilles," Michonne pointed out with a cat-like smirk. "Don't think that's what we want for Rick."

Milton poked his head up above the speaker like one of those moles in a whack-a-mole game and adjusted his glasses. "Well, it wouldn't have been a Greek tragedy if everyone had lived. There must always be a death in a story, otherwise it's a fairytale."

She beamed, noticing Daryl beside them looking mildly irritated, she began, "the story of Achilles is from the Iliad."

"I know what the fuck it's from," the man snarled. "I just don't know what the hell Homer has to do with Rick acting like a goddamned dog hiding under the porch licking his neuter wounds."

Michonne looked Daryl up and down appreciatively. She often forgot, due to his scruffy, unwashed, backwoods look, that the man had more brains than he knew what to do with.

Behind them Milton slowly ducked back down and returned to work.

"He'll come around," she said after a moment.

Daryl grunted in disgust and tore off to get more of the equipment.

Michonne was about to approach Milton, hoping to maybe stoop over and blow down the back of his neck just to tease him a little, when the back door opened and Grace stepped in quietly. The woman moving softly across the floor of her ruined and once again restored sanctuary.

Michonne had to admire how small, how doll-like the woman was, so dainty and petite, yet she could command an army with a word if she truly wanted. Hers wasn't a solid strength like Carol's, but an almost mystical one.

Somewhere deep in her mind, Michonne liked to imagine Grace was a fairy Queen, while Carol was earthly, more like a nymph Queen. To be honest, she would give either woman her complete allegiance if they only asked.

"So the silly Cajun is going through with this so called 'stag' party, is he?" She asked Michonne in her soft, Southern belle tone.

"I think it'll do everyone good," Michonne said.

"I heard rumours, through the ever present grapevine, that Mrs. Douglas is going to…well for lack of a better term, dance the dance of the seven veils," Grace went on.

Michonne smiled. "I've heard those rumours too."

Grace looked about at her church.

The Lieutenant had almost single handedly restored it himself and while it was cobbled together here and there, it wasn't entirely offensive.

"Hmm," Grace said. "Could use some decoration."

"You don't mind having a stag party here?" Michonne asked.

The woman shrugged. "I want everyone here to be happy, to forget the world if only for one night." She looked up at the covered wooden planks over head.

Michonne too had wondered when the Lieutenant first opened the church back up, why he had put in a second floor overhead, why he had cut off the mezzanine from the area below, but the man had said it was for structure safety reasons.

Of course, that didn't explain the padlock or the door he had put in at the bottom of the stairs.

Grace touched a hand to the base of her throat. "I suppose I should throw something for the women," she murmured. "Though, it may not be so much fun as this…"

Michonne wondered why Grace sounded so desolate, like she had just been informed she was dying or something. It worried her.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"I was sitting in my office, going over the scriptures, but my mind was wandering," Grace explained. "I need a dress, I don't want to look like a slob, but…at my age wearing a wedding gown just seems silly. I'm much too old to be yearning for such girlish dreams and desires."

"You're having a baby soon," Michonne pointed out. "You can't be that old."

"Oh, a miracle child, I'm sure."

Taking Grace by the arm, Michonne lead the woman to a pew and out of the way of Daryl who was bringing in another speaker. "Maybe," she said once they were seated, "God extended your youth for this purpose. Because he knew one day a man would come along who loved you like this, who would complete your life like this."

Grace scoffed. "Michonne, I don't think you're one for flowery prose. No, my life was complete enough without Lafayette and this child."

Michonne was quiet, unsure how to respond to that.

"Not to say I'm not happy, I am. I'm…perhaps I'm only a little scared. I've never been married to a mortal man before." Grace patted her hand companionably. "I come from a long line of housewives and I mean, the frilly dress, apron, pearl necklace, high heels to cook a roast, kind of housewife and…I feel like I need to be this kind of woman for Fayette, but…well I'm not, am I? To be honest, I've always been the odd duck."

"Well," she began, "I think the Lieutenant is a bit of an odd duck too, isn't he?"

Grace laughed softly.

"And I think it's because you're an odd duck that he loves you," Michonne finished.

"Oh, you're so kind to say, Michonne. Only, I sometimes feel like, maybe I'm too cruel, too hard on Lafayette. This is, I suppose, what frightens me most. That maybe I'll wear him down, that he'll lose that spark of his that I love so much. Maybe all my nagging and lecturing will—"

"No," Michonne cut her off. "I think even as we speak, you two are falling into a wonderful rhythm. He knows you lecture him, it's why he pushes you and not to be crass, but I think he kind of likes when you're strict."

The woman laughed again. "Oh, good Lord!"

"And I think he loves you so much he doesn't see these supposed faults you find in yourself. And you love him very much too, don't you?"

Grace smiled. "I don't think I could love anyone, blasphemous as it is, I don't think I could love even my Lord more than I love him. I find myself happiest when I hear him, safest when I'm in his arms, strongest when I know he's near." The woman paused, eyes falling on a spot in the middle distance. "Maybe he does complete my life somehow. He's certainly made it more interesting. Before him there was routine and duty and everything was the same and I was on a quiet and calm path to old age, then death. This all, despite the things outside our gate, this has been a wonderful bump on that journey to the end." The woman inhaled deeply and nodded. "So, yes, we need more decoration in here. Make it a celebration." She stood up and thanked Michonne, before walking out.

Sitting on the pew, Michonne thought of Grace's words, her mind yearning for that connection, that string that had been cut, separating them. She felt like she had been free floating without that anchor and had just fallen back down to earth.

And there was Milton, quietly working, glasses shoved up into his blond hair, face screwed up in concentration, dimples sweetly making an appearance.

Smiling sadly, she stood up and headed towards him, easing down at his side. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Not now," he said. "But I'll need to do a soundcheck when this is all set up, I'll need someone to stand around and let me know how it reverbs in this church."

Michonne nodded. "Sure." She paused, eyeing his cute dimples and his adorable face, before she leaned in a kissed him chastely on the cheek, scraping her lips on his stubble. It amazed her that such a boyishly cute thing like Milton had stubble, it was like she almost forgot he was actually a man under all that rabbit fluff. "You do good work around here, Milt." She said.

He turned astonished, wide eyes on her. "Thank you."

She smiled and patted his shoulder, before standing up and heading back to her pew to wait until she was needed.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I kind of agree. I think they should be our next solid bromance.  
><strong>****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - Thank you for the bit about Annie's part. I wasn't sure I wanted to include it, but then I thought it'd be a nice change. I actually looked up children's essays and read a few to get a feeling for it. Kids, they sure have no real filters or rhymes to their writing.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - Same. I also wish more Glenn would happen on the show. I miss Glenn. He's such a beautiful, strong, geeky, cutie.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Yes, Rick chapter soon. It's so hard, I want to have a little bit of everyone, but I think some may think it'll drag on. I managed to get some Rick in this one...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itis3 - Danke.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - To the untrained eye that may be how it seemed, but to covert operatives in foreign countries it was actually a signal that the cheese is in the pocket and it's time to move Aunt Agatha from the freezer. You feel me? I'm just doing my duty here. I'm serving my country. I'm saving lives, man. I'm...okay I was warning people. But some people have delicate sensibilities. They can't handle full Merle like we can.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Oh, Daryl's gift is going to be pretty cool, I hope you'll like it!******************************************************************************************


	7. Shout to the Devil

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><p><strong>Recovery Journal<strong>

**Friday, July 25, 2014**

Feeling? They want to know how I'm feeling. I'm struggling. I hate this fucking journal, but…struggling.

Sometimes I can't think of the right word for something. I know it's there, but it's gone or…blurred in my head.

I just want to be left alone.

Maybe I should leave?

You reading this Herschel? I'll just fucking pack up and go.

I know you assholes are reading this, analyzing it, going over every bit and…

I helped Milton set up tonight for the Lieutenant's stag party. We're holding a party. End of the world and we have nothing better to do than party.

I'm not going.

I'll put Judith down for the night and get some sleep.

I'm a useless bag of shit, but I'm still here.

Where the fuck is Shane? He got cocky, then he got sloppy and where the fuck is he now?

Ghosts. That's all they are now. Lori, Shane, Dale. Ghosts. Remnants. Echoes of what once was.

Judith is getting big, walking, or trying to. You think she looks like Shane, Hersch? Doesn't matter. I'm the one here.

Guess that would make me the remnant.

Fuck this. I hate this fucking thing.

Herschel, with all due respect, you can shove this journal up St. James' asshole. I know it was his new age, touchy feely brain that came up with it.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

****Carol****

"Are you sure he doesn't want to come down?" She asked, stepping back as the Lieutenant climbed up into the magnolia tree where both Kowalski's had made camp.

"Naw, I'm not having a party without you boys," the Lieutenant said, disappearing into the leaves.

Ryan, who was sitting on one of the stronger branches, quietly chewed on his handful of raisins. "Sonny don't wanna, I remain firm with my baby brother in solidarity."

The tree shook and trembled with three grown men in the branches and Carol stepped back, shielding her eyes from the dying sun. "You should give in," she suggested as Ryan hopped down to avoid being shook from his perch. "He already sent Carl and Tyreese to Delgado's to bring them here. Apparently this is going to be a bigger do than Grace wanted."

"Trust a Cajun to throw a party and invite the whole fucking Parrish," Ryan said with a grin. "Sorry, mind my mouth."

Carol smiled and jumped back a little as Kowalski the younger dropped from the tree, followed by the Lieutenant who was beaming widely.

Gripping Kowalski by the scruff, the Marine frog marched the angry man in the direction of church.

"And I appreciate you knowing that we call them Parrish's down the bayou," the Lieutenant tossed over his shoulder.

Downing the rest of his raisins, Ryan chuckled and nodded in the direction of the church. "Guess we're hanging in solidarity in there. You coming?"

Carol touched a hand to her stomach and shrugged. "I…I don't know."

"Is Grace having something?"

"Like what?" Grace broke in from where she stood right behind them. Seemed she was good at that. "Should I hunt down someone to remove their clothes for our entertainment? Unless you have someone in mind, Mr. Kowalski?"

The handsome Marine blinked his sky blue eyes at her, before smiling almost shyly. "I…I wouldn't know, ma'am." He shifted on his feet. "Unless…you're not…am I…what's going on here?" He asked Carol.

She smiled at the young man's nervous turn and batted her eyelashes. "My," she teased, "you've suddenly become skittish."

The twinkle in Grace's eye let her know the woman was in on the joke as the former nun took a step towards Ryan. "It's only…I would love to throw something for the women of the convent, but I'd need a man who would be willing to help out."

Ryan kept glancing at Carol, expecting the punchline.

Carol remained stone faced and interested.

"No offence, ma'am," Ryan said. "But I think you're barking up the wrong man."

"This is my first and – God willing – only wedding," Grace went on, becoming flustered. "Oh, dear, am I not doing this correctly?"

Biting her bottom lip to contain her laughter, Carol decided to move in for the kill. "It's okay, Grace, maybe next time."

"Sure," Grace said. "Plenty of weddings in one's lifetime."

"Hold on now," Ryan said. "You're fucking with me, pardon, you're screwing with me."

"Why no, Mr. Kowalski," Grace said tilting her head. "I wish I were, but the truth is, how does one go about finding a man who would be willing to entertain a woman on the night before her very first wedding?"

"He'd have to be a kind, good hearted man," Carol added.

Ryan backed up from the women. "You two are beautiful and deadly. Like she-wolves, you'd nurse me back to health, but you'd also gut me and eat my goddamned spleen like a steak. I like that and I respect that. I'll see what I can do for you two."

Carol and Grace exchanged shocked looks behind Ryan's back as he headed after his brother and the Lieutenant.

"I think we stumbled onto an opportunity," Carol said.

Grace smiled shyly. "I wasn't expecting that to end the way it did."

"Well, now…?"

"I guess, now we throw a small gathering for the ladies."

"Complete with stripper?" Carol demanded.

Grace opened her mouth, and then closed it. "Complete with…entertainment. Whatever that may be."

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

"Do we have the supplies to spare for a party?" Andrea demanded.

Beside the woman, Sasha shrugged. "I don't care, I want to drink and do girl things for once. I'm sick of rough nails and man sweat."

"I'm going to enjoy being a girl again," Michonne murmured joining them from the outside, Mary Agnes, Mary Claire and Sister Joan with her.

"Are you really going to have one of those men who takes their clothes off, Mother Superior?" Mary Claire asked.

Grace flushed prettily. "I, uh…"

"It was my idea," Carol said. "For the secular women, but only if Ryan can fish us up someone."

"He won't be doing it himself?" Adele asked, joining them from the dining room with Layla and Mrs. Douglas.

"Shame," Sasha sighed. "That man is beautiful."

"Um-hm," Mary Agnes agreed. "I like the way they build them in the Marine Corps."

"Hallelujah," Sister Joan agreed. "Something in the water in Wyoming, I'll tell you."

"Sister!" Mary Claire exclaimed sweetly.

"Mary Claire," Joan began, "you're naïve and sweet, which is why I think you shouldn't come to this party."

"Mother Superior!" Mary Claire pleaded.

Grace smiled gently. "Everyone is welcome, Sister Joan. Though…perhaps it may be a bit…racy for some of you."

"What if Mr. Kowalski gets someone like Cash to strip?" Sasha asked, bumping Layla playfully.

"Ew!" Adele said, apologizing hastily to Layla. "Sorry. It's just…he's such a three day _couyon_."

"Can you even watch strippers, honey?" Mary Agnes asked the woman.

Layla tilted her head in confusion. "What is?"

"They take their clothes off," Michonne explained.

The woman's brown eyes grew wide, before she smiled sheepishly and hid her grin with the end of her hijab. "I think," she began carefully, "is okay."

Everyone laughed with the woman.

"What if he gets Merle?" Andrea pointed out with a grin.

"That man won't," Mary Agnes stated firmly, "if he wants to keep himself in one piece."

"Merle's too smart to fall for that," Carol said. "Ryan will probably trick his poor brother or one of the soldiers into it."

The Lieutenant burst into the packed kitchen, immediately going to the cupboards and looking through them.

"What on earth are you doing tearing up my kitchen like that?" Grace demanded.

"How many snacks feed a literal army of men?" The Cajun asked, he paused, noticing all the women present and turned to them with a grin. "Evening, ladies, what's on the menu for conversation tonight?"

"Strippers," Michonne pointed out.

"For my party?" He asked.

"For mine," Grace said.

The man grinned slyly. "Gracie girl…"

The former nun huffed and waved her hand at him. "The women deserve to have just as much fun as you."

Folding his arms, the Lieutenant rocked back on one foot and barked, "_cabri_! Get in here! We have us a situation!"

Carol beamed as Daryl stepped in from the night shyly, taking note of the crowd of women he was walking into.

"Seems the wimmenfolk," he drawled, mocking the Georgian accent, "are planning to have themselves a barn burner of their own, replete with nude male pulchritude."

Daryl scowled. "So?"

"So, volunteer to strip for them," the Cajun clapped him on the back hard. "Do the right thing, son."

Carol's man turned red as baboon's ass, before pulling away from the Lieutenant's hand. "Fuck no!"

"Come on, take it off for the ladies," the man called after Daryl as the younger Dixon beat earth out of the kitchen.

Holding up his hands, the Cajun beamed. "I tried, magpie."

Grace moved towards him, hands going to his back. "I know, honey. Get out of my kitchen, I'll dig up some snacks for your army and mine."

Digging his heels in, the Lieutenant turned and beamed. "You want me to strip, darling? I don't mind."

"Yes," Mary Claire breathed, blushing shyly when everyone turned to look at her.

Carol smiled gently and rubbed the woman's upper arm.

"Uh," the Lieutenant began, eyeing Grace wickedly, "mmm, mmm, mmm, ow, she's a brick-house…"

"Get out of my kitchen, you wolf and put our girls to bed." Grace shoved in vain as the Marine planted firmly and wriggled his hips.

"Mighty might just lettin' it all hang out. She's a brick-house. The lady's stacked and that's a fact, ain't holding nothing back." He reached for his jacket, undoing the buttons with one hand.

"That's not even an appropriate song for a man, honey," Grace protested. "Stop defiling my—"

"She's a brick-house. She's the one, the only one, who's built like a amazon," he thrust the jacket off and tossed it at Mrs. Douglas nearby, giving the old woman a wink as he did so.

"This used to be a sacred place," Grace stated, face flushed in embarrassment. "Please, just put the girls to bed?"

"We're together everybody knows, and here's how the story goes," the Lieutenant tugged off his shirt and got it halfway off before Daryl returned and yanked the man out the door.

Grace huffed and touched a hand to the base of her throat.

Sweeping in again, the Lieutenant scooped his nun up against him, kissed her breathless, pulled his shirt off, tossed it at Carol with a roguish sparkle in his eye, then left.

Spying a fray in the hem, Carol folded the shirt and planned to mend it in the morning, while Grace struggled to regain her composure in front of the other women.

"Are you really stripping for them, Mrs. Douglas?" Andrea asked suddenly.

The old woman laughed. "I guess I am."

"Mrs. Douglas!" Mary Claire exclaimed.

"Oh, hush! At my age I'm trying to cross things off my bucket list."

"Stripping is on your bucket list?" Mary Agnes asked.

The old woman shrugged. "It's just taking your clothes off. Freeing your inhibitions is healthy, you know?"

"What do you think, Carol," Adele teased. "Want to free your inhibitions?"

Carol laughed. "I think I'll leave my inhibitions in my bra where they belong."

"Who are you kidding, girl," Sasha asked. "I've seen you go free some days."

Blushing furiously, Carol ducked her head.

"I know Daryl's seen it too," Michonne added slyly.

"This from the Queen of No-Undies," Andrea pointed out.

Michonne smiled softly. "Saves laundry."

"This is all good information," Cash said from the dining room doorway.

All the women fell silent, Carol's eyes going to Adele to see her pale at the possibility that her bad omen was about to come true.

"Sorry," he said. "Layla, your boy is after you."

"It's bedtime," Layla explained, excusing herself.

Cash lingered in the doorway, eyeing Michonne with a small, cat-like grin.

"Keep eyeing me like that, little man, and I'll poke one of those wandering eyes out," Michonne said.

"That shouldn't turn me on as much as it just did," Cash stated, ducking as Andrea took a swat at him. Laughing, he left, following in Layla's shadow.

"God must like me," Adele murmured.

Carol laughed. But still, she wondered who Ryan would find for their entertainment. Surely someone would take the challenge up.

"I don't know how Daryl controls himself," Michonne went on. "Carol has fuckable hips."

"Michonne!" Andrea gasped.

"I'm just pointing out a few facts," Michonne shrugged.

"If I were a lesbian I could go for someone like Carol," Adele mused. "Or maybe you, Michonne, I have a thing for curvy asses and thighs."

Carol glanced over at Grace and the nuns to gauge their reaction to such talk and found the other women quietly listening, Mary Agnes wearing a small, knowing smirk.

"Not me," Andrea admitted. "I like willowy women."

"Sid, if this don't end in exploratory and experimental kissing I'm going to cut my balls off at the root."

All the women looked over at the back door to find Delgado and two of his men with him, Gwen, Dolly, Vivian and Eve pushing their way through the men to enter the kitchen.

"Go on," Pace urged the ladies with cheeky grin, pushing his cowboy hat up higher on his forehead.

Delgado hooked Pace around the neck with his arm. "Sorry, ladies, we didn't mean to interrupt the party, we were looking for—"

"In the church, I believe," Grace pointed out, welcoming the women from Delgado's group with a couple of mugs for freshly brewed coffee.

"Actually, you," Delgado said. "To congratulate you on your nuptials."

Grace smiled at the man. "Thank you. I'm glad you could come for this."

"Oh, we're staying for the wedding," Delgado said. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." He nodded at the other women, before tugging Pace off with him.

"Where's the stronger stuff?" Eve asked with a grin.

Sid lingered in the doorway after the other parted, hands in his pockets and sweet, gentle smile on his face, before he nodded to them and said, "you ladies have a good night." He turned and followed after the others, passing Glenn who moved to stand in the doorway, eyes wide and curious.

"Ryan said you all wanted to see me about some dirty work or something?" Glenn said nervously.

The women all burst out laughing at the poor boy.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy -**** I kind of ship them too. Not going to lie.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Michonne does indeed have a serious thing for the geeky little rabbit. Because he's such a rabbit.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - I always like interesting couples, test the boundaries, see what comes of things.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - I'm hoping to show Michonne as more of a rock. I want her to be steady and sure, someone who could make a good leader or elder of sorts.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Merle will always be Merle as long as there's a breath of life left in this series.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - I almost had a stripping Daryl courtesy of the Lt. Dammit, so close!******************************************************************************************


	8. Fortunate Son - Part I

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><p><strong>Milton's Historical Logs #94<strong>

**Saturday, July 26, 2014**

Last night was…I feel compelled to log the events but I'm not happy (or proud) about doing so.

The night began like any other party, I suppose (not that I've been to many mind.)

The men were gathered in the church in a herd of excited testosterone, under God's roof doing ungodly things.

The women were huddled in the infirmary with estrogen haunting the air like wisps of a spirits' tattered shroud.

No sane man dared to go to that place at that time.

There was drinking of liquor by those who could and those who didn't (and in Layla's case) those whose religion forbid it, entertained themselves with cold tea and canned fruit juice. But most importantly there was drinking. I repeat myself because this is important to note.

Now, as a man who doesn't indulge much I have to admit that my memory is perhaps the most reliable in recounting the events that unfolded.

First, there was noise. A cacophony the likes of which even the angels heralding the end of days from heaven couldn't reproduce.

The Lieutenant insisted upon karaoke, so of course, there was noise.

There was smoke. Fresh tobacco from Delgado's own crop and dry, musty plumes from the ancient cigarettes found by those who indulged.

Then there was sex. Not in the sense of a grand orgy, the likes of which Caligula himself would endorse, but sex that hung on words and jokes thrown amongst the men like confetti at a parade. They are soldiers and rednecks, these men, and one Marine who descended directly from those old French Kings, who seemed to be the root of sex minded thought and speech. And in the minds of these virile males everything is and was sex.

At times I was thrown into stages of pink cheeked shock by the jokes and comments, having never been around men of such woodshop working, plaid wearing, boot stomping male type. These are like the Brawny Men of the world and all under one roof.

Merle. Merle, that leader of the sex minded men prevailed on all things that night.

At one point I felt as though Merle were the God Bacchus and that the wine and the debauchery were products of his will.

St. James may have supplied some of his deep woods grown, special marijuana for the festivities and I may have inhaled the second hand blue haze which hovered in the air, so perhaps Merle's imposing self was the cause of this firm belief in old Roman God's.

After the drinking. After everyone was in a mellowed mood came Mrs. Douglas. That geriatric temptress with the sienna skin, wrinkled by time and experience, but almost like liquid gold under the light of the candles. She danced like a creature fifty years younger. Like and immortal child of light and fire. She moved like a gypsy.

An old, wrinkled gypsy.

So, there we were. Testosterone high, blood alcohol up there in the solid digits, coming back to life after living among the dead and the ghosts. We needed this release. We needed this night.

Oh God, what have we done?

And some point a fight broke out between Merle and Rhoades.

This was to be expected. Two alpha males high on life, booze and energy, clashing.

And the Lieutenant, he just sat back in his throne-like spot of honour by the pulpit and watched, a small, impish look in his eye. Like he knew. He knew it was to be expected, like in some way he was Puck and he instigated the whole debauchery. Maybe he was. Maybe the Lieutenant was in some small way an earth spirit of mischief and mayhem. Maybe he threw this party to bring us all down.

Maybe I'm still a little high from the pot.

The fight, it lasted maybe five solid minutes of heavy blows and blood and bruises, but when it was over, like all good fights between men, Merle clapped a hand on Rhoades back and offered him a beer. And all was right.

The night was full, it was full to the brim of happenings and things and it all went so fast, so heavy and real, that I can almost still put myself there, in that place. With the smoke and the noise and the vibrancy of the life that electrified those who witnessed the whole ordeal.

Then, like the Queen's they were, the women showed up suddenly, the door to the church was thrown wide and they stood there like Valkyries arriving to drag these warriors off the field of battle, up to the halls of Valhalla.

The noise stopped.

For a moment I thought I had gone deaf. There wasn't a sound. Men rushed to put out their smokes, to adjust themselves for the women as they moved down the aisle of the church, heading for a smirking Cajun on the dais at the front. It was almost as though the man willed it. He looked like he expected nothing less, a knowing twinkle in his eye as the women approached him.

That was when the debauchery went from drunken revelry to a veritable orgy of moving bodies and drinking and I feel like, at one point someone was naked. Or maybe we all were, or maybe it was just the feel of the party as it got out of hand. As people writhed and laughed and danced and sang and drank and stomped and literally tried everything in their power to tear that old structure of the church to the ground with the energy of their bodies.

No one will ever be able to say that this party, this bacchanalia thrown by this single Cajun devil on the night before his wedding to a nun was anything if not epic. And with this record, it will go down in history as the first time, in a long time, we thoroughly lived.

Think I'll go back to bed now. I still feel like I'm walking through a haze.

**Current home population: 39 (Both Kowalski's and O'Hara and his men still present.)**

**Current away population: 0**

**Current forecast: I don't know. It looks too bright out there and there's a wind or something. I'll have a better gauge later when I can stand bright light and moving.**

**Current mood: Tired, a little confused, kind of hungry but I know if I eat it won't stay down long.**

**Addendum: Did I drink last night? There's about eight beer bottles in my bed beside me…I don't even like beer.**

**P.S. to the addendum: Should I be concerned about this condom at the foot of my cot? It appears to be used…it touched my foot and I thought it was a snake.**

**Also addendum: There appears to be bright red paint or something on my pillow…**

**Personal note: I'm sure I conducted myself with a modicum of dignity at the celebration. At least I have that.**

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****Daryl****

"I'm the lizard King!"

Eyeing Milton who was straddling the railing at the front of the pews, Daryl smiled and tucked his cigarette in between his lips to clap for the man as a group of soldiers cheered the man on with chants of 'dance, dance, dance' as he struggled his way through a Doors song, the mike too close to his mouth, the joint Milton held threatening to burn the handle of the microphone as the geeky scientist ground against the rail, riding it like a witch riding a broom.

Beside him Merle touched his bottle to his split lip and grinned. "Some people can't handle their smoke."

Finally it was St. James who rescued Milton, taking over the mike and handing it over to Glenn who finished the song as Milton was helped down from the railing and seated at a nearby pew.

Rhoades, who was suddenly best of buddies with Merle after their scrap nodded in agreement and then stood up to catcall Glenn who hit a high note that was about ten feet off key.

Someone hit the karaoke machine and the CD jumped to 'Baba O'Riley' causing Glenn to falter and fumble, before adjusting himself to the situation and going with it. The poor man had come back from the kitchens at the start of the night, warning everyone not to fucking believe a word Ryan Kowalski said, his face pink with some kind of embarrassment.

Spying Carl in the shadows beside O'Hara and Kowalski the Younger, who both seemed to be exuding a dark cloud of fun-sucking negative energy, Daryl stood up and approached the boy, shouting at him over the din.

"Your dad know you're here?" He demanded.

Carl shrugged. "He's watching the kids tonight in the dorms!"

"I didn't ask where he was, I asked if he—"

"What does it matter?" Carl returned. "I'm not drinking!"

"Yet," Merle stepped in, grabbing the young man and handing him a beer.

At Daryl's disapproving look, his brother shrugged and grinned, proud of himself for corrupting Rick's kid.

With a withering glare, Daryl decided to let it slip, moving back to his spot to find Dean slinking into their pew, a beer in hand.

That seemed to be the one thing Merle did disapprove of, snatching the beer from the kid, handing it off to Daryl in order to flick Dean's earlobe.

"Get back to the dorms!" He barked.

Dean slunk off, but rebelled enough to veer off towards Carl's shadowy corner. Merle seemed to miss Carl handing Dean his beer, but Daryl caught it with a sly look.

As Delgado and Sid started up 'Casey Jones', the Lieutenant flopped onto the pew beside Daryl, vaulting the one in front easily with his long legs in order to get at them. Like a true Southern gentleman he clung hard to a tumbler of bourbon, the good stuff that Daryl gave him in lieu of finding a better bachelor party gift. And just like any good Southern gentleman, the vaulting over the pew didn't at all affect the liquid in the glass. No man wasted a drop.

It seemed to please the Cajun better than anything, so Daryl was satisfied with his find.

"Come on, _cabri_," the Cajun's accent was thicker with drink. "We gon' nex', yeah?"

"Naw," Daryl shook his head. "I don't do that shit."

"F'true?" The Cajun drawled with a glimmer in his eye. "I tink dat's a lie you been tellin'. All night ya been eyein' dat mike like it's da gol' medal ya been wantin' for."

"Naw," Daryl insisted.

"Dere's dis glint in ya eye dat tells me ya lyin'."

"Jesus, you were fucking hard to listen to before," Merle broke in, "now it's like listening to a retarded Frenchman trying to speak English."

"_Embrasse moi tchew, grande beede_."

"Yeah, fuck you too, coonass."

Leaning across Daryl, the Cajun looked Merle straight in the eye and said, "_je vas te passe une callotte. _Ya feel me, _couyon_?"

Without giving him time to respond, the large Cajun had Daryl by the back of his shirt and was frog marching him up the aisle towards the front.

"Speak fucking English I might, dipshit," Merle replied.

"Fuck you, Merle!" The Cajun announced with a grin.

"Fuck you back!" Merle responded gleefully.

Shaking his head in good humour, the Lieutenant murmured. "I'm gonna pass dat man a slap tonight, I feel it."

Delgado and Sid finished their song and Daryl found himself apprehended by the Marine, marched up the aisle and held firmly in place as the Lieutenant picked out a song for them to sing.

The familiar drum beats and pluckings of a guitar started up and Daryl smirked around his cigarette, puffing as the Cajun started.

"Some folks are born, made to wave da flag. Ooo, dere red, white and blue. And when da band plays 'Hail to the Chief'. Ooo, dey point da cannon at ya, Lawd! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no!"

The men began to get riled up, stomping and clapping along.

The mike was thrust at Daryl and for a moment he stood stunned, and then removed his cigarette from his lips, downed a good swallow of beer, finishing off his bottle and taking the mike.

"Some folks are born, silver spoon in hand! Lord, don't they help themselves, y'all! But when the taxman comes to the door! Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yeah! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no, no! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no!"

It was actually alright, considering. No one cared how badly Daryl was singing, and he was sure it was bad. Fay motioned Merle up and the gruff man resisted for a moment, before moving to stand beside them, the three of them bobbing to the music, Fay's arm slinging around Merle's and Daryl's shoulders.

Tucking his cigarette back into his mouth, Daryl belted out around it, singing with Fay and his brother, arm around his waist as the three bobbed and stomped, finishing the song together.

"Some folks inherit star spangled eyes! Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord! And when you ask 'em, 'How much should we give?'! Ooh, they only answer 'More! More! More!', y'all! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no military son, son! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, one! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no, no, no! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no, no, no!"

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Ah yes, the 'who would you go for if you were gay' discussion. I think I've had it too. It's one of the classics.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - We'll see who strips in the next part, I promise. (Sadly it isn't Glenn...)******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - Mine too! I love that song. I like to think the Lt thinks of it when he thinks of Grace. I don't know why, I just do.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************You'reMyKindOfTrouble - I like the idea of Glenn the stripper, he's a total hottie. Also, the Lt is so effing cheeky. I'm amazed he gets away with half of what he does, but I think the more chill and relaxed Grace gets, the more he has to push her to get her ire up.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Poor Glenn, he always seems to be in over his head. He's such a cutie. I don't know why I don't write enough of him.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Because the Glenn striptease had you so hot and bothered you need Merle's cold steel blade to cool you down? Ehehe...*refuses to believe you dislike the idea of Glenn naked*******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Oh, I haven't forgotten either...it may come into drunken Daryl play later...that purple thing.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itsi3 - Ah, Fay...what a little shit.******************************************************************************************


	9. Fortunate Son - Part II

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><p><strong>**Grace**<strong>

"No, I'm not saying we need a leader because I'm trying to put myself in that position," Andrea argued over her glass of wine. "I'm just saying we need to have a clear leader in charge around here to regulate and uphold the laws."

"What laws, Andrea?" Sasha demanded. "We've never had anyone murdered or anything stolen. We all kind of respect each other enough to live and let live."

The women of the convent were spread out across the cots and chairs of the infirmary, comfortable and relaxed, drinking wine and discussing politics and makeup.

Reclined on a hospital bed, leaning against Carol a little drowsily, Grace noted that Andrea's politics seemed to lean more towards uprising and fighting some imaginary oppressor, while everyone else seemed content to just discuss how the world may be beyond their walls. They speculated on how things were run in Delgado's group with all those women and Eve and Dolly set them straight, informing the women of the convent that Delgado was in charge, but that he didn't demand respect, but that he had more than earned it.

"So, Gwen, you've seen Ryan naked, haven't you?" Dolly changed the subject from Andrea's war, to something less intense for the night.

The other women laughed as Gwen almost choked on her wine.

"Sorry?" She demanded.

"Just curious," Dolly replied with a sly grin at Eve. The two women touched fingertips like a mini high five.

Gwen cleared her throat. "I heard honey is good for the skin," she said, pointedly ignoring the two women by turning to Mary Agnes.

"I heard that too," the woman said.

"Wait, wait, wait," Michonne broke in, "I want to go back to that other topic."

Everyone laughed.

"Oh, it's okay, honey," Eve assured the woman. "Just morbid curiosity is all."

"Speaking of men, I'd like to know how Grace the nun ended up with a Cajun devil," Gwen said, still managing to change the subject.

Grace hid a grin in Carol's steel curls.

"You have to imagine this," Mary Agnes broke in with a tricky grin , "the first night that boy showed up, Mother Superior, resplendent in her full habit, takes him into her office—"

"Mother Superior, did you…that first night?" Mary Claire broke in innocently.

Grace gave her a half scolding, affectionate look. "No, I most certainly did not."

"I heard her through the door," Mary Agnes went on.

"Eavesdropped," Grace clarified.

"'You are as mangy as a mutt,' she said," Mary Agnes chuckled. "'For as long as you're in the presence of these good women, you will remain out in that shed and be grateful to the good Lord for it'."

Grace flushed, she remembered every minute of that tense conversation with that strange, tall, scraggly man who had boldly appeared on their wall. The first time she laid eyes on him he was two weeks deep into a beard, his eyes were dark from lack of rest, his cheeks hollow from lack of nourishment. He looked feral. But the smile he had given her, that first grin of his, it was the one that melted her cold heart a little. He looked so relieved to see people, to find others.

"You've come a long way from there to here, Grace," Mary Agnes finished with a gentle smile.

"We've all come a long way," Grace said, deflecting the attention from herself, not used to being the belle of the ball. "When you think of it, we've come so far in such a short amount of time. It's barely even been a year and look at us."

"Don't change the subject, Mother Superior," Sister Joan broke in. "We're talking about you and the Lieutenant and how you pushed him so far away. To be honest, I'm amazed you ended up here."

"It doesn't bother us, though," Mary Claire said with an encouraging smile. "I think we're all really happy for you."

"You made a good decision," Joan added. "The Lieutenant may not be conventional, but he's a good man."

"You'll always be our Mother Superior," Mary Agnes agreed.

Reaching across the void from the bed to where Mary Claire sat in a chair nearby, Grace gripped the younger woman's hand and smiled.

"You've all been such strong women during all of this," Grace said. "I'm very proud to have been at the head of you. I only wish the others had made it this far. I wish we hadn't lost them."

"Well, if Sister Gertrude were still alive she'd most likely tie herself to the doors of that church in order to stop the wedding," Mary Agnes said. "You know how traditional she was."

Grace laughed and explained to Carol and the others, "when the Lieutenant first arrived, Sister Gertrude wanted to throw him right back over that wall. If you can imagine, this tiny, frail old nun, forcing that Cajun boy right back against the wall and eyeing him down like she wanted to set him on fire with a look."

"Mm, the way that man looks at you though," Eve broke in.

Everyone looked over at her.

"We need more romance over at the farm," Dolly said wistfully, eyeing her quiet daughter.

Vivian flushed prettily and sipped at her wine.

"We need more romance here," Andrea said. "I mean Carol and Daryl, the Lieutenant and Grace, where's my slab of man meat?"

"Merle and Mary Agnes," Mary Claire chirped.

The nun cleared her throat and offered the younger nun a warning look.

"What? You don't think we didn't notice how sweet he's become on you."

"Merle is not sweet," Mary Agnes stated coolly. "And that is none of—"

"You know he was going around bragging about it, right?" Michonne pointed out. "That snake."

Mary Agnes quirked a brow and took a sip of wine. "Good. I wouldn't want him any other way. You all can have your mice and house cats, I'll take that snake and thank the good Lord for him."

"There's more to Merle than he lets on," Carol defended her brother-in-law gently. "Lately he's proven that."

"Thank you, Carol," Mary Agnes said.

"Now, I'm curious, Mary Agnes," Sasha said. "Is Daryl a mouse or a house cat?"

"Oh, that boy? No, he's a sheepdog."

"You have no idea how much of a struggle it is to get him to sit still for a haircut," Carol said apologetically. "How come the Lieutenant is always so well groomed, that's what I'd like to know," she turned to Grace.

"That man _is_ a house cat," Grace said with a roguish twinkle in her eye. "He preens more than I do."

"But it pays off," Andrea pointed out. "I wonder how Daryl cleans up?"

"Think he'll shave and get a haircut for the wedding?" Adele asked Carol.

The woman laughed. "No. I couldn't even convince him to wear a tie for it."

"Could you imagine that boy in a suit and tie?" Eve demanded. "I bet he's the cutest thing!"

"The sad thing is," Carol began. "He'd only ever wear a suit and tie if the Lieutenant asked him. He wouldn't for me."

"Aw, that's not true," Mary Claire tried to appease her.

"No, it is." Adele argued. "Those two have a weird relationship."

Grace laughed. "Oh, Lord, it's true! They're eerily close some days."

"I swear, sometimes I think they'd make the cutest couple," Dolly pointed out, before back-tracking quickly. "Not that I've dwelt on the idea or anything! But…they are adorable together."

"Speaking of men and relationships," Eve began, "did you know Delgado and Pace have a sort of thing going on?"

"Oh, shut up!" Dolly argued. "You overhear one compliment from Delgado to Pace and suddenly those two are hooking up!"

Everyone stopped when someone pounded on the door. They all looked amongst themselves, wine glasses held still in their hands.

"Ladies! Open up!" Someone shouted from the other side. "We have a situation!"

Adele was first to the door, being the closest, she cracked it carefully.

From her place on the bed, Grace tried to see what was going on.

Stepping aside, Adele let both Kowalski brothers in, Ryan was beaming widely and holding a battery powered stereo.

"Ladies, I'm so sorry," Ryan explained as he handed the stereo off to his brother. "I tried really hard to find someone to take it all off for you. I really did. But I was beginning to feel dirty, like some kind of p…anyways, we have a problem here—"

"Mister Kowalski, you really didn't have to, Carol and I were jok—" Grace was cut off, by the oldest Kowalski.

"We have a problem here…I'm wearing too many clothes for the occasion!" Ryan Kowalski tore his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside to everyone's shock.

He paused, suddenly and turned to his brother who was fumbling with setting the stereo up.

"That was…" Ryan stopped and stomped on the floor to get his brother's attention. "Hey! Cue!"

Kowalski scowled at his brother and pointed to his ear.

"Yeah, I know you're deaf, just…just fucking hit the button! No, the…fucking play! Play button!" He signed to his brother.

Kowalski frowned and pressed play.

"No, track…the other…" Ryan huffed and made another sign.

Grace flushed and got to her feet quickly. "You really, please, just…you don't have to do this, it was a joke."

Kowalski hit the forward button and Ryan turned to her with a grin as Life in the Fast Lane began playing, grabbing the waistband of his pants and jerking his hips in her direction.

"Oh Lord!" Grace exclaimed, scurrying back to the bed to huddle with Carol, who was laughing hard and not at all helping her or the situation.

The women catcalled and went into a frenzy, while Grace tried to bury herself deep under the blankets and covers of the bed, her face burning with embarrassment as she pressed it against Carol's thigh under the blankets.

"Oh Lord, this is so embarrassing, is he still—"

"Yes, he's still stripping," Carol said, watching the show. "I think this might turn into a bare all sort of show."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry for playing that joke on him now."

"He seems happy enough," Carol replied. "Eve and Dolly are dancing with him now, the others look happy."

Cautiously, Grace peeked out from her blanket fort and found her girls were clapping and laughing along with the others, she winced. Lord have mercy on her for this.

Noticing a tattoo on Ryan's back, she tilted her head and tried to read it.

The man caught her looking and beaming, made his way over.

She ducked back under the blankets and gripped Carol tight. This was more stressful than being shot at. She instantly regretted a lot of things, but this was one of her biggest.

Well, at least the others seemed to be having fun.

Carefully, she peered out again and found Ryan was distracted by dancing with Mary Agnes, the two laughing and leaving no space for the Holy Ghost.

Ryan dipped the nun and the two laughed as he swung her back up and against him.

Grace smiled along with them, enjoying their joy. As long as the man kept over there with the others, she'd be fine.

Maybe it was too much to pray to God to keep the man occupied over there?

Ryan's baby brother almost shyly approached their bed and stood there for a moment, before offering her his hand, eyes on his boots.

Grace glanced over at Carol, who smiled and nudged her.

"Go on," she urged.

Deciding that refusing a shy boy like Kowalski's offer for a dance would be too cruel, Grace took his hand and let him help her up from the bed.

He was either a very progressive, modern dancer or really, really bad, but she didn't care, the poor boy was trying, and not being able to hear the music, he couldn't keep the beat and ended up sort of bobbing and weaving. So she bobbed and weaved with him, laughing as he offered her a shy grin.

Grace noticed Ryan's pants were off and she flushed.

His brother smoothly moved into her line of vision, politely interrupting the sight and distracting her with a better version of the dance, Kowalski even opened his over jacket to better block the image from her.

She gave him a grateful kiss on the cheek and they kept dancing.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - All will be revealed. The night isn't over yet.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Congratulations on the niece! ^_^ I'm so happy for you! I hope both mother and baby are resting happily!******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - I'm basing drunk, happy Daryl on Daryl at the CDC. I imagine if they had karaoke and a pushy Cajun, he would have sung then too. ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Some people just really cannot handle their substances.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - A boy? Have you seen half naked Glenn? But yeah, Merle is totally all gruff and rugged and manly.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************You'reMyKindOfTrouble - Milton really is a pompous nerd. I love him so much though. I miss the hell out of him on the show.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - Have I answered your question about who stripped in a pleasing manner?******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itsi3 - I love the guys being guys too. I really need more of the guys just dude-ing it up all over the place.******************************************************************************************


	10. Fortunate Son - Part III

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><p><strong>**The Lieutenant**<strong>

The church was absolutely still.

Soldiers were rushing to put out their cigarettes and wave the smoke away as the entire group of women slipped in through the main doors, following Grace and Carol who headed them.

Halfway through 'Mississippi Queen' with Merle, the Lieutenant let the music run, mike in hand, watching as the women approached the dais. He considered hiding the tumbler of bourbon in his hand, but it was too late, Gracie's eyes were on him. Sharp and cutting in the dim light of the church as she paused by a soldier who stood in the aisle enough to hinder their approach.

The young man backed away almost reverently, apologizing softly as he bumped into a friend behind him.

His girl ascended the dais calmly, eyeing everyone as she turned to face the group of men, watching as the women settled themselves amongst the pews.

Merle ducked and took to a pew in the front as Gracie quietly fingered her way through the karaoke selection.

Lafayette cleared his throat, about to say something to break the tension, Mountain still playing.

Were they in trouble? Was it the stripping? Or the drinking? Or everything?

Christ he was sobered up fast and terrified.

"Is this what you boys are up to in my church?" Gracie asked still going through the catalogue of songs, her sweet dulcet tone carrying over the music, strong and beautiful as an angel's.

"Yes, ma'am," Tyreese supplied from where he was operating the machine.

Reaching over, the woman gripped his chin and squeezed it lovingly, before pointing to a song in the list.

"Yes, ma'am," Tyreese said with a grin.

Stepping up to the Lieutenant, his girl grabbed the mike and put it back into the stand with a small grin as the music started.

"This is a party, isn't it?" She spoke into the mike, before hitting her cue a little shyly. "We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We've been talking about Jackson."

The Lieutenant missed his cue, eyeing his girl with appreciative eyes. She looked so beautiful in the dim light, a roguish glint in her eye, a pink flush to her cheek. He blinked, recovering himself, "I'm going to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around. Yeah, I'm going to Jackson, look out Jackson-town."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her in close against him, beaming down at her wolfishly, ignoring the audience, wanting to smother her in kisses and maybe take her right there in the church.

She pushed against his chest with a mildly scolding look. "Well, go on down to Jackson, go ahead and wreck your health. Go play your hand you big talking man, make a big fool of yourself. You're going to Jackson, go comb your hair."

"Honey, I'm gonna snowball Jackson-"

"-see if I care!" She finally got free and laughed softly.

"When I breeze into that city, people gonna stoop and bow. All 'em women gonna make me teach 'em what dey don't know how," he grabbed her again and dipped her gently back. He didn't give a good goddamn about the people watching, he was so aroused by the sight of her, pretty as a magnolia blossom and just as sweet. "I'm going to Jackson, ya turn loose of my coat. Cuz I'm going to Jackson."

She laughed. "Goodbye, that's all she wrote."

He bent down and kissed her.

They missed a few lines as she returned the kiss, still bent a little backwards in a dip. He didn't care a bit if she was a little hard on him sometimes, the sweet, soft woman she was deep down was all he loved and all he needed. She was definitely the only woman he wanted at his side in life.

She broke the kiss with a darling little flustered sound, breaking out of his arms and returning to the mike.

"They'll lead you around town like a scalded hound, with your tail tucked between your legs. You're going to Jackson, you big talking man. And I'll be waiting in Jackson, behind my Japan fan." She continued a little shakier as the audience of party goers, both male and female, whistled and roared.

Rescuing her a little, he swooped in louder, causing her to match his volume, her delicate feminine alto ringing alongside his baritone.

"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We've been talking about Jackson, ever since the fire went out. We're going to Jackson, and that's a fact. Yeah, we're going to Jackson, ain't never coming back."

In a hailstorm of applause, the Lieutenant downed the rest of his bourbon, tossed the glass at Rhoades, scooped up his girl and absconded with her back to their pew, settling her in his lap when they got there and beaming at Daryl who sat close to his own lady, clapping sarcastically.

"Let's see ya two do better, _cabri_," Fay taunted.

"Daryl doesn't sing," Carol said.

Fay tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

The woman turned to her man. "Were you singing?"

"Fuck no," Daryl growled, sipping at his beer.

"Bullshit!" Merle shouted from nearby, causing Daryl to flush.

"Who said we came here to do silly duets with you men all night?" Grace demanded. "As I recall, we came here because with all this yowling, Carol and I thought you'd bring every wild, feral cat down upon our convent like a horde of fierce Huns." The woman held her hand out to Carol who took it with a cheeky grin and headed over to where Michonne and Andrea were gearing up to pick out some songs to sing.

Watching his girl parade off, Lafayette beamed at Daryl. "Dat woman does unholy t'ings to me."

"In a church yet," Daryl murmured into his bottle.

"Ya can't tell me Carol doesn't make ya want to take her home and let her wear ya out."

Daryl chuckled. "Jesus, she has been."

"Oh, dat's right," the Lieutenant teased. "Ya give her dat purple _chouchoot_ yet?"

The bright flush on the youngest Dixon's face told him that the answer was 'no'.

"Yeah, dat's about right. Want me to tell her?"

The man glowered at him, causing Lafayette to laugh.

"You're a fucking lunatic," Daryl snarled.

"I'm getting married tomorrow," the Lieutenant confided. "Tonight, I'm going howl at da moon!"

"You're drunk, dipshit, just calm down," Daryl warned.

"Hell, right! I'm gonna be drunker in about three seconds too," the Cajun looked around. "Where da hell did I put my glass?"

"You threw it at Rhoades."

The Lieutenant laughed and reached for his bottle, squirreled safely away under the pew. "Did I? Jesus, did I peg de po' bastard?"

"Who cares?" Daryl demanded of his beer. "Merle already scrambled his face, another bruise won't make him any prettier."

Taking a sip of bourbon from the bottle, Fay sniffed and nudged Daryl. "Hey."

"What?"

"Tell you what," the Lieutenant began, "take Carol to bed early tonight, give her dat _chouchoot_ and den give yo' _petit bibitte_ a rest, yeah?"

"My what?"

Noticing Grace heading for the door, casting a come hither look over her shoulder at him, Fay stood up with his bottle in hand. "Yo' ah…whatever, _cabri_. Look, cut that hair mop fo' my weddin', yeah? See ya in da the mawnin'."

He split out quickly, on the heels of his girl, striking out the door and into the cool night air.

Stumbling in the dark on his piss drunk legs, he bumped against the railing of the stile, before fumbling his way down the steps in search of Grace. Staggering to his knees a little, he laughed and found one of Grace's little black boots under his nose. He picked it up and looked about for the woman, struggling to his feet, boot in hand, bottle forgotten on the grass.

Ahead of him his girl was toeing off her other boot, leaving it behind in the dewy night grass and walking bare foot through the grass, heading for her beloved peach tree.

She paused, waiting for him under the tree, back against the trunk, eyes shining playfully.

Oh, he liked that look in her eye, it meant trouble of the right kind.

"You looking for me, honey?" She purred.

He beamed, collapsing against the trunk, hand out to steady himself. "I'm a bit drunk, dawlin'."

"I see that." She returned. "Are you at least having fun?"

"I could be havin' a whole lot mo' fun, girl," he drawled, moving in close enough to nuzzle her with his nose.

She remained still, hands resting behind her against the trunk, ass on top of them, little tummy that had only just begun to show thrust out a little proudly.

He swayed back a little, before sinking onto his ass in the dewy grass. "I gotta cop a squat fo' I fall down," he groaned.

She beamed down at him, before brushing her hands off on the front of her thighs and joining him on the ground.

Fay pulled her in close, _close_ close and pressed his nose in among her dark hair.

"I 'member," he murmured, curling a lock around his finger clumsily, "when dis hair was short and cropped like a boy's."

"I prefer the term pixie cut," she argued. "And it was because of the habit, honey. Mind your hands!" She exclaimed as he reached for her breast with a roguish grin.

He chuckled and pulled her into his lap, his hands moving to her bare feet.

"So, how does this work, magpie?" He asked. "Tomorrow? Ya take my name? Hm? Become a Vancoughnett?"

She smiled. "I'm a traditionalist, honey, so yes."

"Mm," he mumbled into her hair, kissing the top of her head, then her temple. "Mais, dere's one t'ing you need to know about bein' a Vancoughnett," he said.

"Oh?"

"First, ya always name yo' boychil' Lafayette, otherwise ya bring down bad _gris-gris_ on da house Vancoughnett."

She smiled.

"Second, as a Vancoughnett woman, ya always gotta give da the worl' hell, yeah?"

"Don't I do that anyways, Fayette?" She teased, wriggling in his lap, digging her free foot into the cold grass.

He gripped her gently, but firmly, growling in her ear, "third, ya should probably not do that right now less ya want dis boy fired up fo' bed."

She grinned wickedly at him, before pressing back hard and squirming against his hips with her pretty little Georgian peach ass.

"I see," he muttered, "I get what yo' after now."

Bringing his hands up from her foot, he wriggled his fingers against her ribs, causing her to gasp and jerk away. He continued his torment, following her as she flopped back onto the grass, giggling and squirming.

"Naw, ya gotta deal with the repercussions of yo' actions, girl!" He scolded, brushing his fingers across her neck and behind her ears. "Grindin' all up on me like some hellcat all geared up fo' trouble!"

She flopped and squealed, getting good and wet all down her backside from the grass.

Finally he stopped, laying his head down on her thigh gingerly, his large hand moving to touch her stomach, a cat-like smile curling the corners of his lips, as she stared up at the stars overhead.

"I love ya, Gracie-girl," he whispered, seconds from passing out.

She brushed her fingers through his hair. "I love you too, darling."

"I gave Daryl a purple dick for Carol," the Lieutenant murmured against her thigh.

"What?"

"Nothin'. Sing to me, yeah?"

She was quiet for a minute. "Any song?"

"Mmm, just love yo' voice, dawlin'."

"Saturday night and the moon is out, I wanna head on over to the twist and shout. Find a two-step partner and a Cajun beat, when it lifts me up, I'm gonna find my feet. Out in the middle of a big dance floor, when I hear that fiddle I wanna beg for more. I wanna dance to a band from Louisiana tonight," she crooned, hand tweaking and plucking gently at his hair.

He smiled lazily against her thigh. "I like that song."

They lay there for a few more minutes, Grace singing to him, before the Lieutenant quietly fell asleep, one hand wrapped around her leg, the other resting over her stomach, his plans for doing sinful things to her changed by the drowsiness that over took him in her presence.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - I like to think Mary Agnes genuinely loves Merle.  
><strong>****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Guest AKA auntheddy - Dude, you gotta check your log in status. ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I could use the paycheck. Believe me. This whole learning to better myself isn't the party hangout I thought it would be.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - I like to think that Grace is all brass and brash, but she's still that virginal Catholic girl deep down.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Something about those gruff, manly types.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - I'm glad they're both doing good. And yes, Kowalski is a grumpy, tree-loving sweetheart.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - I like to think Daryl would surprise her as well. He'd definitely do anything for her, she just doesn't really think it.******************************************************************************************


	11. Fortunate Son - Part IV

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><p><strong>**Glenn**<strong>

"I like your hair!" He shouted over the noise of the party.

Vivian smiled broadly and shyly tucked her shortly cropped hair behind her ear. "Thank you! It angered my mom, so I guess that's why I did it!"

He beamed. "I think it's very pretty!"

"I'm Vivian!" She shouted back, leaning in towards him a little.

"I know!" He returned. "I'm Glenn! Rhee!" He added after a second.

"I know!"

He flushed a little. "Wanna dance?"

"Okay, but if my mom sees us, I'm going to split, okay?" She hollered.

He tilted his head in confusion.

"It's just, if she sees me dancing with you, she'll get ideas!" Vivian explained. "She's always trying to hook me up with someone!"

This threw Glenn for a bit of a loop and he paused, furrowing his brow.

"She wants grandchildren!"

"Oh!"

"Just warning you!"

Vivian took his hand and pulled him into the open area where a few pews had been shoved aside to make room for a dancefloor.

He had barely had time to get a few steps in, when Merle accosted him.

"Where's that goddamned Cajun?" Merle barked. "He owes me a bottle of beer for losing the bet!"

Glenn eyed the man for a second in mild fear. "What?"

Merle motioned to where Milton was dancing sandwiched between Michonne and Andrea. "That brainiac is about to get laid."

"What?" Glenn demanded again.

Merle shoved him with a scowl and wandered off through the crowd.

"Sing, sing, sing!" The crowd chanted as Sergeant Fredricks corralled Major O'Hara without touching him up to the mic as the song ended and one of the soldiers stepped down.

Standing awkwardly before Vivian, Glenn offered her a shy smile. "Um, another dance?" They didn't really get to dance at all, so he thought he'd offer again.

"Sure."

The Major shook his head and tried to escape, but Fredricks kept him trapped by the mic with his open arms.

With the soldiers getting rowdy and chanting, their leader sighed into the mic and said, "if I sing will you all calm down?"

The men roared and stomped.

"Alright, calm down, men!" Major O'Hara commanded sternly, sobering up a few of the fainter hearted soldiers. "I'm going to disappoint you and sing a love song, because I'm disgusted by your drunken behaviour, you reprobates."

"Take it all off, Major!" One of the soldiers catcalled playfully.

"That's a warning, Carter!" O'Hara snarled, pointing at the man. "If I do this, everyone has to get up and dance. Everyone find a partner. Carter, you partner up with Malloy for that 'stripping' crack."

From where he stood, Glenn could see the mirth hidden in the Major's eyes, even though his face read professional as the soldier in question went white and glanced at another soldier beside him.

As the soldier went to speak to Tyreese who was still manning the karaoke machine, Glenn's eyes swept from Vivian who was smiling sweetly at him, over the crowd, finding Carol and Daryl sitting in a pew, talking with Sasha and Rhoades. Cash was laughing with a group of soldiers, Layla sitting perched beside him, leaning in to hear over the din, Adele at her side, smiling at the Major's teasing of his men.

"I'm going to try this acapella," the Major explained almost shyly. "Here's an old Irish song my Nana used to sing to me before she died."

Fredricks moved close to Tyreese and whispered something to the man.

Tyreese smiled and nodded.

"The pale moon was rising above the green mountains," the Major began softly in a surprisingly fine, clear tenor, "the sun was declining beneath the blue sea. When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain, that stands in the beautiful Vale of Tralee."

Glenn moved in close to Vivian to dance, as the beginnings of some heavy metal music began. They stepped apart in confusion.

Tyreese shrugged at Major O'Hara's curious glance and pointed to Fredricks who was laughing.

Stepping back from the mic, O'Hara chuckled and nodded. "You think I don't know this one, smart ass?" He asked his second-in-command.

Confused, Glenn glanced around to find a few people catching on to the song, most of the soldiers jumping up from their pews to applaud and cheer on their leader.

Grabbing the mic, O'Hara swooped in on cue.

"As I was goin' over the Cork and Kerry mountains I saw Captain Farrell and his money he was countin'. I first produced my pistol and then produced my rapier. I said stand and deliver or the devil he may take ya!"

Unsure how to dance to the song, Glenn looked back at Vivian, but she was busy sliding in close to him, hip to hip, and grinding against him a little. Shocked, but not altogether displeased, he grinned nervously and tried to keep up with the woman. She wasn't as shy as he thought. Maybe just around her mother?

"I took all of his money and it was a pretty penny. I took all of his money, yeah! and I brought it home to Molly. She swore that she'd love me, no never would she leave me. But the devil take that woman, yeah! for you know she tricked me easy!"

The dancefloor exploded with people suddenly and Glenn was pushed in close to Vivian.

"Musha ring dum a doo dum a da! Whack for my daddy-o! Whack for my daddy-o! There's whiskey in the jar-o!" Everyone chanted loudly, Vivian included.

Shocked by the woman, Glenn could only gawp and flounder almost helplessly as people pressed in even closer.

Daryl, who was nearby with Carol stepped back with her to keep from the celebrating mass and Glenn contemplated getting the pregnant woman out of the church as it seemed like everyone was ready to tear the place apart in their excited frenzy. Seemed Daryl had the same idea, as he whispered something to her and they both left.

"Being drunk and weary I went to Molly's chamber. Takin' my money with me and I never knew the danger. For about six or maybe seven, in walked Captain Farrell. I jumped up, fired off my pistols and I shot him with both barrels!"

For a man who was all duty, the Major seemed to be a rock star at the mic and Glenn began to thoroughly enjoy the show. Or maybe it was the energy of a group of rough, road weary soldiers and struggling survivors who finally had a chance to enjoy themselves that sparked electricity across the atmosphere of the church. He joined in the chanting with a nervous grin, almost expecting things to go bad. Having trouble comprehending that they might actually have a chance to really have fun and let loose.

"Now some men like the fishin' and some men like the fowlin'. And some men like ta hear, ta hear the cannon ball a roarin'! Me, I like sleepin', especially in my Molly's chamber. But here I am in prison, here I am with a ball and chain, yeah!"

As the song ended, Vivian leaned in close to Glenn and said, "want to get out of here?"

He blinked at her, trying to decipher her meaning.

She smiled almost coyly and motioned to the door with her head.

Glenn allowed her to lead him to the door.

"I should slap you all with a 1059," O'Hara grumbled into the mic as Glenn was lead out the door.

Outside, Vivian spun around and kissed him boldly.

Glenn struggled for a moment to comprehend just what was happening, before he tentatively kissed her back. He pulled away after a second and winced.

"Sorry, I…just…"

She blushed furiously. "No, I'm sorry, I…it's been a while."

"No," he fought for a way to explain it to her.

She looked so pretty standing before him, nervous and so sweet looking.

Glenn swallowed thickly, before taking a step towards her, hand moving to her chin. Tilting her face up, he softly kissed her lips.

Vivian eagerly kissed him back.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

They stumbled into the wolves den, fumbling and struggling to keep upright.

Glenn slammed hard into a nearby shelf and cursed as his elbow struck the edge.

Vivian pulled back. "Sorry."

He shook his head, about to say something, but the woman pounced again and knocked them back onto Milton's bed.

Swimming among his multitude of pillows and sheets and blankets, Glenn tried to locate the woman, but she found him, mouth crashing against his, her teeth bruising his bottom lip, her thighs squeezing his hip as she straddled him.

"Jesus," he mumbled into the kiss.

"Sorry," she flushed, pulling away a little, "it's been awhile."

"Yeah," he said. "I can kind of tell."

She glanced around them. "Is this your bed?"

"No," he said. "It's Milton's."

Vivian beamed impishly and shed her shirt. "Think he'll mind?"

Glenn swallowed thickly. For an instant he thought of Maggie. Was it appropriate? It seemed like only yesterday she…she was gone.

"Are you okay?" Vivian asked, pulling him back to the present.

His eyes took in her deep, chocolate eyes with the flecks of caramel blossoming out around her pupils, how open and friendly her face was and he realized that he was. He was okay. Maggie would always be there in his head and in his heart, but she was a ghost, she had lived, but she wasn't real anymore. He would always honour her, but he couldn't linger in the past with her. He needed to move on.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."

Vivian dropped down to kiss him softly, hands cradling his face.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__****************************************************************************************

They were lying in Milton's bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the Georgian night, when Vivian pushed up onto her elbow to lean over him.

"You know what I find strange?" She whispered, politely waiting for him to ask 'what' before going on. "This is the new normal. We've grown accustomed to it all. I don't even blink now when I see one of the dead just walking around."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"It's not just because you're Asian," she said, flopping back down to lay beside him.

"What?" He was confused.

"That I picked you. It isn't because you're Asian and I'm Asian." She giggled. "The truth is, we have our choice of men on the farm, but Sid still isn't over his wife, Delgado is gay, Charon and Mr. Hollander are too old, I'm fairly sure Pace is hidden deep in the closet and Carter is only fifteen. My only options were both Kowalski's and Ryan is with Gwen, I think," she frowned, "and his brother is…well he never leaves his tree when he's at home."

"So why me?" Glenn asked.

Vivian smiled. "Because you're sweet. I like sweet boys."

Glenn smiled shyly.

Laying her head against his chest, Vivian sighed. "I'd watch you walk around here, just generally being nice and helping others and you didn't seem to get the recognition you deserved. I thought to myself, that's the one I want."

"Really? Me?" Glenn asked.

She smiled up at him. "Yeah. You don't think that's too forward, do you?"

"No."

"My mom…she's very forward, I…can I tell you a secret?" Vivian whispered.

"What?"

"She used to be a stripper, that's how she put herself through college."

Glenn laughed. "Dolly? Really?"

"Yeah. It's why she's able to just put herself out there. Sometimes it's embarrassing."

"Did you ever…like, have a boyfriend?"

She shrugged. "A few. Mom came on a little strong with the marriage thing and scared a lot of them off."

"I'm not easily scared," he admitted with a small grin.

She beamed at him. "I bet you aren't."

They both jumped as the door banged open and Merle stepped in, half dragging Milton, who was clinging hard to a bottle of Jack, his face painted with what looked like red lipstick.

Scrambling to get out of the man's bed, ignoring Merle's taunting laughing, Glenn flushed and guided Vivian to his cot as Merle dropped Milton onto his bed and took the bottle, downing what was left.

"Go to bed, Lizard King," Merle teased Milton, who was already curling up in a fetal position.

"Is he okay?" Glenn asked.

Merle shrugged. "Poor little asshole can't handle a Cajun party."

"What happened to his face?" Vivian asked, Milton's sheets wrapped around her.

"He passed out and a few of the boys decided to make him pretty for his hangover," Merle said, heading for the door, adding on his way out, "by the way, I can still see your tits, girl."

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******************************************************************************************auntheddy -**** This has nothing much to do with anything, but I feel I need to point out that you're a wonderful human being and I adore you. ^_^  
><strong>****************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - I can assure you, the next chapter is Caryl. It's been a long time coming, but hopefully it'll satisfy.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I kind of enjoy them as well. They've sort of become their own entity and it's horrifying how I never intended for that.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - One more chapter of stag party good times, then wedding.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Who? Me personally? I guess if you command I must deliver...now I'm off to buy a purple dick! [Exit pursued by bear.]******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itsi3 - You're awesome! ^_^ No, but seriously. You're a beautiful person.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Next chapter is Caryl goodness, I promise! Thanks for your patience. ^_^******************************************************************************************


	12. Fortunate Son - Part V

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><p><strong>**Daryl**<strong>

The party was swinging into a high gear that had that young, rebellious man inside him rattling the bars of his cage and screaming 'fuck yeah' but also had the responsible daddy-to-be in him shrinking back with a mild scowl thinking 'well, this isn't safe for Carol to be in these crowds'.

Fuck. He could practically feel those khaki chinos and button ups (with sleeves) creeping up on him.

The old man won out in the end and he guided Carol from the party with her eager approval and lead her out into the night air.

They passed by Dean who was hurling boots into the bushes, Carl at his side quietly and Carol paused to scold the boy, but she hesitated when they spied Mary Agnes on the boy's ass, hurrying from the church like her sole purpose in life was to smack some sense into the boy.

Exchanging looks, they continued on, heading for the dorms and their temporary bed, but stopped when someone called out to them.

Glancing around the darkness, they found Grace struggling under the peach tree with a large heap of Cajun Marine.

"Need help?" Daryl asked as they approached.

Grace huffed and dropped Fay's arm. "If you don't mind, I think he's – pardon my language - foxed?"

Carol laughed as Daryl eyed the Cajun, looking for the best way to haul his ass inside. He honestly had no clue how he'd get the sequoia of a man into the dorms, but figured if he could haul a buck back to the convent to field dress it, he could get the Cajun inside.

Though he'd leave the skinning of the man to Grace.

Getting Fay draped over his shoulders, he half dragged, half carried the man towards the dorms, the women falling in behind, each taking a leg.

"I'm sorry," Grace huffed quietly so as not to wake those sleeping as they got inside the dorms. "I would have let the fool boy sleep out there, but the night is cold and the grass is dewy."

They nearly dropped him angling Fay into their shared room, but Daryl managed to wedge him against the doorframe enough to prevent total tragedy, getting the Cajun to the bed and flopping him half onto it, his long, spider legs still hanging over the edge.

Standing there, Daryl scratched at his scruffy chin and shrugged. "Well, at least he didn't do anything stupid before dropping."

Grace smiled at them. "Thank you. Think he'll be okay there for the night? I want to go back and ensure those heathens in my church aren't tearing it apart."

Kicking Fay's boot, Daryl said, "he'll be out for the night now."

"I just hope he wakes in time for the ceremony in the morning," Grace added one last time, before turning and flouncing out.

Carol smiled at him and pulled Fay's legs up onto the bed, tucking the man in lovingly as Daryl settled into their nest on the floor, pulling his boots off and removing his belt.

His girl joined him after a moment, smiling seductively and wriggling to get comfortable before him, kneeling so that her fat stomach jutted out proudly.

"Long night," she purred.

"Even longer one tomorrow," he murmured.

Slipping her arms around his neck, Carol kissed him slowly, wriggling in even closer.

He glanced nervously over at Fay passed out on the bed.

Carol followed his gaze and smirked. "He's out cold."

"Be a hell of a thing if he woke though," he said.

She beamed wickedly at him. "Would it? Let's find out."

He swallowed thickly. "What?"

Throwing her head back, revealing the long, slender line of her throat, his girl laughed and moved to straddle him properly.

Wincing at the bruises she was bumping from their constant interludes, he glanced over at his pack where that thing Fay gave him was buried among his underpants and meagre belongings.

"What if Grace comes back?" He asked.

"What if the ceiling crashes in on our heads and a bunch of birds flying overhead find out how humans mate?" She teased, playing with his scruff.

He glanced up at the ceiling overhead out of instinct to see what she was referring to.

Carol muffled her laughter in his shoulder.

He reached for his pack while she was distracted and pulled it in close, contemplating actually offering her the thing. A thought struck him that it felt weird giving the thing to her, since it originally came from Fay.

Did that make it a sex toy gift from the Cajun to his girl?

He had to ponder that one a bit, but there was no time as Carol was kissing and nipping at his neck in that cat-like mildly frightening, mostly arousing way she did and he dropped his head back far enough to let her continue, his hand releasing his pack to move to her ass, helping himself to a heaping handful with a small squeeze.

Again he glanced over at Fay on the bed nearby and it pulled him back to his senses. Gently he pushed Carol away and cleared his throat. "No, not with him here."

She looked over at the Lieutenant, then back with a devilish glint in her eye. "Okay."

Reaching under her shirt and behind, she wriggled and squirmed, before pulling her bra out through the sleeve of her shirt and tossing it proudly over Fay's face. One of her maternity sized cups covered his eyes enough and Carol pulled her fists in close to her in triumph.

"Yes, three points!" She teased.

The Cajun slept on.

Daryl scowled disapprovingly at the Marine wearing his girl's bra on his face, but decided to let it slip as Carol was reaching for the waistband of his pants, sparing no time for him to verbally disapprove.

As her small, strong hand slipped inside the front of his pants, all thoughts vanished from his mind and he forgot the Cajun was even in the room.

Carol beamed and leaned in close, her hand doing wicked things to him out of sight.

"Jesus," he murmured as slammed her mouth against his like a hungry she-wolf. "Wai-" he sputtered, struggling to free himself.

She pulled back and blinked her big, beautiful blue eyes at him like an angel. "What?"

Nervously, he reached for his pack and opened it. "I…" he felt himself blush a little. "I have something for you…to use…sometimes."

She tilted her head as he pulled out the thing wrapped in a rag, wrapped in a bag and offered it to her.

"Oh honey," she teased sweetly, "you gift wrapped it and everything."

He felt his entire body turn into molten lava as she unwrapped the thing.

Carol eyed it in her hand for a minute.

The entire convent grounds were too fucking quiet, even with the faint sounds of a party coming from the nearby church as his girl eyed the purple thing.

Then she looked at him like a she-devil and whispered. "What is this?"

"What?"

"Is it sanitary?" She demanded.

"I hope to God it is," he replied.

She tsked. "And what am I supposed to do with this?"

The thing made a frightening buzzing sound when she turned the base and Daryl panicked, eyes moving to the doorway, then to the sleeping Cajun.

Carol grinned evilly and twisted the base again, amplifying the buzzing.

"Alright, Jesus, I had no idea it fucking did that, keep it down!" He whispered roughly.

"I'm sorry, I can't go back, I don't how it works," she joked, turning the base again.

The buzzing zinged three times rapidly, then slowed, then three times again in an almost musical pattern.

"Did I feed da goldfish?" Fay mumbled suddenly.

Carol turned the thing off and both of them eyed the man on the bed like deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi.

"Let da pilot do it," Fay griped and rolled over, his back to them.

"Okay," Carol whispered, tucking the thing in beside her. "Now is he asleep or passed out? Because I didn't think people who were passed out talked…"

"Fucked if I know," Daryl whispered back. "Usually when I was with someone passed out, I was blackout drunk myself."

"Go check," she urged.

Carefully, he crawled over to the bedside and tented up and over the Cajun to peer at his face.

The man's face was serene, peaceful, still.

Suddenly his eyes popped open and Daryl found himself being hauled over the Cajun and onto the bed, where he tumbled against the wall.

Fay sat up laughing merrily.

"Lieutenant!" Carol gasped.

"Aw, he's awrite," the Cajun swayed a little sitting there on the bed beside Daryl. He plucked Carol's bra off the bed between them and eyed it, before holding it up questioningly to Carol.

She shrugged shyly.

The Lieutenant flipped it at her with a shake of his head.

"You've been awake this whole time?" Daryl snarled.

Fay laughed. "Ya tink a bottle of bourbon is gon' put dis Cajun down? I was born on da bayou, _cabri_. Drinkin' bourbon like it was _mere's_ milk since I was old enuff ta sneak out. I jus' wanted ta see if yo' scrawny ass could lif' me. Ya _zeerahb_ lovebirds. Wit me in da room!" He struggled to his feet, helped by Daryl who kicked him in the ass, sending him up and then down onto the nest with Carol, where the Cajun floundered for a minute unsteadily.

Carol helped him get right with a small grin.

"Band break at da _fais do-do_," Fay muttered to her, getting to his feet. "Jus' gotta learn how we do tings on da bayou, ain't done until someone _defan_."

"Lieutenant," Carol exclaimed, getting up and steadying him, "you're not seriously going back to the party?"

"I need my girl and my bottle," Fay slurred, "in dat order. Dat _chouchoot_ is clean too, _ange_, I pulled it from a fresh plastic wrap myself, so get busy, yeah?"

"Hey," Daryl began.

Wagging his finger, Fay opened the door and stepped out, before turning back once more and saying, "if Gracie girl asks, I…I'm _un transport_."

"You fucking—" Daryl began, cutting off as the door shut, cutting the Cajun off from hearing the flavourful name Daryl was brewing up for him.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Carol asked, "the Lieutenant gave this to you to give to me?"

Daryl scowled. "You've been riding me a little hard lately, girl. I was scared it was going to fall off."

She blinked at him. "I'm about to ride you even harder," she stated coolly.

He swallowed a lump and blinked at her fearfully as she set the thing aside and crawled up onto the bed with him.

"Your pants are still undone," she pointed out impishly, tugging at the open fly roughly.

He flushed.

Carol laughed. "Let's just hope he's too drunk to really remember what happened."

"I told you it was a bad idea," he grumbled.

"Shh," she hushed him, hand slipping inside his pants. "I'm busy and you need to just keep quiet and deal with it."

"Jesus, woman," he rasped. "You're going to be the death of me."

She smirked. "_La petit mort_."

"What?" He gasped.

"Nothing."

Eyeing the forgotten toy in their nest through slitted eyes, Daryl decided to just go limp and let Carol do her thing. He couldn't stop her even if he wanted to and at the moment, with her hand working at him, he didn't want to.

Hell, he was sorry he ever complained. If it fell off, it'd be the best way to lose a dick any man ever.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll be a little more gentle on you tonight, wouldn't want to destroy my favourite sex toy."

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__******************************************************************************************

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__******************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************auntheddy - I think they're about to frack...  
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********************************************************************************************You'reMyKindOfTrouble - Glen deserves some happiness and recognition, next on my list of characters I hate myself for neglecting that deserve happiness is Tyreese...********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - There's not a day goes by that I don't hate myself for killing off Maggie...I truly like her...but as with all my character deaths, it was literally just that her name was drawn from my envelope of names.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Guest - I agree. Glenn is a fantastic character and needs all the love and respect he deserves!********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Not yet...but soon perhaps some Milton/Michonne.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Haha! Didn't think of that Milton/Michonne/Andrea triangle...LOL!********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Ah, Merle, the only man who can see tit and not lose his shit.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - I hope Glenn's fling is productive too.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************itsi3 - Merle is really coming around as a helpful type man, think he's growing like Daryl grew on the farm.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Guest #2 - Reviews like yours keep this series alive, so thank you for it! I honestly appreciate it! I hope you have a lovely day, my friend!********************************************************************************************


	13. Everything Gonna Be Alright

**This chapter is dedicated to auntheddy. That lovely lady who sent me a Valentine on tumblr and I never made her diddly squat. So...I'm an awful person, but here you are my precious one. I honestly hope you like it. I'd feel like a giant fool if you don't. A giant foolish fool type fool.****__..-~-..__**

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><p><strong>Milton's Log #?<strong>

**Date Unknown**

I've misplaced my log book.

Did I log the events of last night yet? I feel like I haven't.

This morning has been a bit of a blur.

The wedding is gearing up. Think maybe an hour or two.

Still haven't figured out who came into my cot and left a used condom. Was it me? I feel like it couldn't have been. If it's not mine or…the implications that it could belong to someone else disgusts me. But if does belong to me…I really need to handle this like a detective first, then a gentleman.

I hope I didn't do anything untoward. I was under the influence of some pretty heavy substances.

I have otherwise been inducted into the men's only club, something which I've never been a part of. The initiation? Apparently Merle was spiking my cold tea with something stronger last night.

I may have smoked marijuana as well. I found remnants in the sheets of my cot. What do they call that little nub left from a marijuana joint? A bug? Something like that.

I found a bug in my cot.

Grace looks beautiful this morning in a dress supplied by Carol. The ladies pulled me into the ready room for the bride earlier to help with a technical problem with the old Singer sewing machine they were using for last minute alterations.

Carol looks absolutely stunning as well. I may have made a bit of a fool of myself in my shock.

Not to say I never found her appealing, but there's something about the both of them today. A tinge of pink to their cheeks, a sparkle in their eyes, a tiny, cat-like furl to the corners of their mouths.

Women are mysterious and breathtaking. I have to remember to appreciate them better.

Maybe it's the glow of pregnancy people always talk about that hangs about them.

To be honest, all of the women of the convent look beautiful today, wearing dresses for once and flowers in their hair, some of them flitting about from building to building in anticipatory excitement like fairies fluttering from leaf to leaf. Even Michonne, who normally scares me a little, came to the shed with a knowing smile on her lips and a flowy yellow dress on. She looked so alluring that I may have fumbled and dropped the mug of water she brought me for my hangover.

I have to admit I find the length of her neck appealing. She's strong, but there's a grace there that I like. I may have had inappropriate thoughts about her curves under that clingy dress. I should apologize to her later for my fumbling when she had been so kind as to bring me that water.

(If this ever becomes an official document, please omit that part about her curves and neck. I just don't want to seem unprofessional.)

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****Grace****

She had taken a moment to herself in the sacristy, avoiding the bustling of women and the sluggish movements of those hungover and suffering from the party (which in her opinion had gotten wildly out of hand).

The rows of hooks on the wall contained Father O'Rourke's vestments, his beautiful purple and gold stole, alongside the priests robes hung a few full habits for nuns hanging beside them, kept there due to lack of space in the dorms.

Brushing up the thin plastic protective covering, she fingered the thick, rough black hem of a robe, feeling the material between her thumb and finger, reminding her that this was all real.

Releasing the garment, she allowed the plastic to fall back down over it, dropping her hand to her 'wedding' gown. That silly floral dress Carol had saved for her from that boutique before she blew away in the gale wind.

She had worn summer dresses like this as a young woman, in fact one of the last pieces of civilian clothes she had worn before the habit had been a dress very similar.

Seemed fitting, she supposed.

To be honest, she wouldn't miss that hot, heavy black and white habit. The wimple scratched her and the veil always got caught in doors when she closed them behind her and it took her forever to learn how to roll up the sleeves in such a way that they wouldn't interfere with work.

Beside the standing mirror, she gazed at the woman in the reflection. Dark, greying hair, porcelain complexion, small nose, small lips, small hands and feet.

Lord, Lafayette was right, she was a perfect little doll.

A perfect little doll with crow's feet and frown lines from years of disapproving of everything.

She smiled a little and her reflection copied her.

Behind the woman in the mirror, she spied two little angels peeking around the doorframe at her and turned around.

"You look beautiful, mama," Annie declared shyly, still peering around the doorframe at her.

"Thank you, my darling," she returned. "Why on earth are you hiding in the doorway? Come inside and let me take a good look at you."

Annie stomped in a little sullenly, the overly frilly white dress Mary Claire had put her in swishing, the broad, blue silk bow already askew.

Grace knelt down and adjusted the bow as Olivia joined them in her own, matching white dress, her new patent leather shoes squeaking on the polished hardwood of the sacristy.

"Do I have to wear this?" Annie complained. "I look like a jerk."

"Well, you certainly will not be marching around in your altogether, darling," Grace pointed out. "It'll only be for a little while."

"But I don't look as pretty as you," Annie grumbled.

Grace smiled at the girl and kissed her forehead. "We are all beautiful in God's eyes, my child."

"But you're beautifuler," Annie pointed out, tugging at the braids in her hair and fidgeting.

"But you're the ugly duckling," Olivia said. "She grew into a beautiful swan!"

Annie scowled. "You're an ugly duckling!"

"Dummy!"

Grabbing both girls by the shoulder, Grace wheeled them to the door, guiding them out before a fight could ensue. She marched them across the church, where people were beginning to get things righted after the party, to where Mary Agnes sat with Merle on a pew.

Merle looked well, considering his night, sitting very close to Mary Agnes and smiling wickedly at her.

Grace paused before them with a small grin. "May I ask a small favour," she began.

"We'll watch the little scrappers," Merle said.

"You've got a lot on your plate today," Mary Agnes added, holding out her arms, inviting both girls to her lap.

Olivia took to her lap eagerly, but Annie leapt at Merle's, sacking the poor man.

He grunted and caught her.

"Jesus, small fry, ease up on my nuts," Merle growled.

Fighting with a strand of hair that had fallen from the careful curls Adele had put her hair up into, Grace paced a little, before deciding on a direction. Rethinking the modest white heels Sasha had scrounged up for her, Grace removed them as she wandered down the aisle of the church in search of Carol.

Outside she spied Daryl lounging around on the stoop with Rick and Glenn, the latter two men were actually spit polished and looking very appropriate for the occasion, Daryl however earned a second take from Grace.

"Daryl, honey," she began with a gentle smile. It was a military tactic straight from the pages of Better Homes and Garden. A tactic her prim, Southern Catholic nee Baptist mother had taught her at a very young age. "You may get away with tearing the sleeves off of fine plaid shirts when you're out in the wild hunting game and slaying abominations, but for my wedding, if you could scrounge up something more formal, I would be very grateful." She brushed his shaggy bangs off his forehead and tsked. "You have such a handsome face, I'd imagine you could shine up very nicely for the occasion. Very cute," she teased, brushing a finger over his mole.

He glared at the world, but didn't dare turn that glare on her.

"Please?" She pleaded. "For me? For my wedding day?"

"I ain't wearing a suit," he grumbled.

"Not a suit," she coaxed. "Maybe just a button up that still has sleeves attached and some slacks that aren't covered in the woods and the wild? Could you do that for me, sweetie? Hm?"

He scowled at the sky overhead.

Grace adjusted the collar of his worn, ratty shirt and smiled sweetly at him. "Daryl, now I know you're a giant ball of squishy sweetness inside, don't give me that mean old wolf routine."

She stepped back and eyed Rick and Glenn approvingly. "You boys look so handsome," she greeted, adjusting Glenn's tie and giving Rick a kiss on the cheek as he took her hands in his gently and squeezed. "Very happy to see you up and about this morning," she whispered in his ear.

"You look beautiful, Grace," he offered.

She sheepishly touched a hand to her hair and huffed. "Oh, I feel foolish actually. Marriage is a young woman's game, I think."

"I look amazing, Grace," Glenn pointed out firmly, taking her hands next and kissing her cheek.

She beamed at him. "Oh, honey, you darling boy."

Turning lastly to Daryl, feeling bad for scolding him, she took his rough hands in hers and smiled. "I'm sorry, honey, you know I adore you and want you to come however you are."

He shyly took a step forward, hesitated, then quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek, flushing a little as he pulled back.

She beamed at him and stroked her hand through his shaggy hair. "How is he this morning?" She asked.

He shrugged. "You know that Cajun, keeps whatever is really on his mind to himself."

"Is he hungover badly?"

"Nah, drink a gallon of coffee," Daryl said.

Fluttering away from the men, leaving them to their conversation, she moved towards the infirmary, still looking for Carol.

It didn't dawn on her to ask Daryl when she was with them, but as she turned back to ask, she found him slinking away towards the dorms and decided to just head onwards on her own.

Pausing by Milton who was leaning heavily against the corner of the infirmary, having just discretely thrown up his breakfast in the bushes there, she gave him a sympathetic smile and touched a hand to his as she passed.

Inside the infirmary, she found Carol and a gathering of women, all of them standing around Dean looking anywhere from disappointed to angry, to downright amused.

The young man looked a little green around the gills from his adventures the night before, but it wasn't just a hangover that had him looking sickly, it was Elise crying in the corner that had his eyes darting there and back and his face looking wan.

Mary Agnes swooped in, grabbing the boy by the elbow and guiding him out of the infirmary, before anyone could do anything.

Grace gazed after them curiously, before turning to the crying girl.

Mary Claire and Adele were easing down on either side of her, so Grace turned to Carol who moved to stand beside her, joined by Tyreese and St. James.

"Well," she greeted the two men. "Don't you men look as fine as a Sunday afternoon in Savannah."

"It wasn't easy to find suits and ties in the apocalypse," St. James purred, smoothing down his tie proudly, "but we have connections."

Tyreese stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. "You look breathtaking," he greeted.

She kissed him back happily. "Thank you."

St. James offered her the same greeting, fumbling a little and stepping on her bare foot. "Sorry," he muttered looking devastated.

"Where's your shoes?" Carol asked.

Grace wriggled her toes and gave St. James an accepting look for his apology. "I can't remember."

"She left them in the church," Father O'Rourke said, joining them from the doorway, shoes in hand.

Grace eyed them.

"Lying's a sin, you know," Father O'Rourke teased, handing her the shoes.

She tsked and accepted them from the priest. "You really are so helpful, Father."

The man bowed his head. "I do what I can." He took her by her upper arms warmly. "You look like an angel."

"If angels were pregnant women approaching fifty, then yes, I suppose I resemble one."

Father O'Rourke shrugged. "I can't lie. I'm a priest."

"And you're here just to remind us?" Grace demanded playfully.

"The Lieutenant wanted me to tell you that everyone's beginning to gather in the church, so, whenever you're ready."

"Oh…just like that?" Her stomached dropped a little. She wasn't afraid of marrying the Lieutenant, it wasn't that at all, it was just…she really did feel so foolish. This didn't feel like her, she wasn't this kind of woman.

"I was told to tell you that it's all at your leisure," he said. "Whenever you're ready, Grace."

As soon as Father O'Rourke left with Tyreese and St. James and the others, Grace turned to Carol, who stood beside her.

"Oh, that's very sudden isn't it?" Grace asked her.

Carol smiled softly. "Are you okay?"

Touching the gunshot scar on her bare shoulder, Grace murmured, "I've been shot at and it wasn't this stressful."

"Fight or flight?" Carol asked.

"Oh, I don't know." Grace said. "I…okay, let's go."

"Now?"

"Yes."

She eyed the door of the church for the longest time, Carol quietly at her side.

Grace frowned. She really did want to marry the man, but it was just this initial leap. This…ceremony. It was all so official. Well…the last time she married someone, it was Jesus and she recalled that ending on a low note.

Okay, she told herself. Just, get it over with, then go back to bossing that Cajun around.

Oh Lord, he really needed it, didn't he?

She nodded to Carol, who smiled and reached for the church door, just as Daryl came running up dressed in a long sleeved top and slacks, his hair spit slicked back.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I did my best."

Grace beamed at the man, grateful for the break in her inner turmoil. "You look handsome, Daryl. Thank you, honey."

Kissing Carol, the man ducked inside quickly and Carol gave him a minute or two to get settled inside, before turning back to Grace.

"Ready?" She asked.

Grace nodded.

The door opened and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim church.

Down the aisle lined with pews, filled with people who were all staring back at her, stood Father O'Rourke, Daryl and Lafayette in his silly dress uniform.

She didn't even have the right mind to think about scolding him for wearing his hat in her church, her heart was frozen, her feet firmly attached to the stoop beneath them.

"Oh, no," she gasped and pulled away from the door and the staring eyes, pressing hard into the alcove made by two flying buttresses on the outside of her church, just behind the door.

Carol eyed her from her place in the doorway.

"Just go," Grace whispered. "I'll be in…just give me a moment. Okay?"

Carol hesitated.

"Go," Grace urged, pressing harder against the wall. "Just go."

Glancing into the church, Carol slowly stepped inside, leaving Grace in a stiff, tense state against the wall just outside the door.

Her legs weren't working, her hands were set in a form of rigor mortis at her side. All those eyes inside, too many people and she was dressed like some flower child throwback.

Oh, her mother would be turning in her coffin.

A lean, handsome face peeked around the door at her, white hat and all. "Don't do it," Lafayette teased.

She scowled. "What?"

"Don't jump," he said.

"What?" She snapped.

"You…you're standing like you're on a ledge," he clarified. "You know, like a jumper."

She glanced over at him. Lord that hat was ridiculous. Well, it looked good on him. Okay, he looked good in his dress uniform, but she wasn't going to be all gooey over that fact. Any man could look good in a dress uniform, that was just fact.

"It's not you, lover," she said, calming a little in his presence.

"Oh, good," he said. "For a minute there I thought maybe it was this hat." He removed it anyways and turned it over in his hands as he rounded the door a little more. "Can I join you?" He whispered. "On your ledge?"

She nodded.

Lafayette posted up beside her in the alcove.

"I love you," she stated. "Just so you know."

"Good," he said.

"I just…I feel silly," she admitted.

He turned the hat over in his hands, nodding. "In what way?"

"I'm not one for paper moons and muslin flowers, not at my age," she confessed.

"But you…still want to get married, yeah?"

"Of course, just…it's just this."

"_Mais_," he glanced out over the convent grounds. "It's your wedding, magpie. You do what you want and I'll support you."

She nodded. "I know."

"I knew a woman once," he began with a small grin. "Got married in the Nezpique."

Grace smiled. "She didn't."

"Yep, right there in the water, up to their knees, both her and Jack Valois, shivering cold, married in the Nezpique."

"Why on earth would she get married in the water?"

"It was her wedding and her decision," he said. "Ah, but they were happy. It was a good marriage."

"You…you have alligators in the swamps in Louisiana though, don't you?"

He beamed. "Not in the Nezpique."

"Still a foolish thing to do," she said.

"Yep, but it was her choice."

Grace smiled up at the Cajun beside her. "Can I ask you something, lover?"

"Today, for you, anything."

"These stories you tell, are they true?" She demanded.

"A false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will perish," he quoted gently.

She smirked. "Okay, let's test this honest Cajun then. How do I look today?"

"The same as every other day," he returned. "Perfect."

She scoffed.

"I mean it, darling, you're the type of woman who inspires artists to paint masterpieces."

She laughed softly and pushed him away. "Alright, turn off the charm, it's coming on a little strong."

He chuckled and replaced his hat.

"Go inside," she said. "I'll be right behind you."

The tall Marine bowed his head and scuffed at the steps with his shoe and when he glanced up at her from under the brim of his hat she could see his eyes were a little moist.

"I love you, magpie," he said earnestly.

She didn't think he had ever been so honest before.

She reached out and touched his cheek. "I know, lover. I feel the same way. Now go inside, I'll meet you at the altar."

He stooped down to steal a kiss and pulled away slowly. "Are you sure? You don't have to—"

"I'm sure," she said. "It's not about the journey, it's the destination."

He beamed at her and ducked inside.

Smoothing down her dress, she peeked around the door and found everyone sitting quietly in the church. She focused on the front, where her Cajun waited for her and took a step inside.

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><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><em><em><strong>..-~-..<strong>__******************************************************************************************

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********************************************************************************************Claire Randal Fraser - Right? Daryl best appreciate all the lovin' he can get right now, because once baby comes there will be many a sleepless night and not due to sexin'.  
><strong>******************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************vickih - I understand that urge. I honestly feel awful when I write other stuff, like, we all know why people come around here. And it's not for that other junk. ^_^********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************auntheddy - Christmas at your place must be a kick ass party. ^_^********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Yazzy x - What I'd like to know is that if he was pretending how come he just let Carol whap him in the face with her bra. Dirty Cajun...********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - I hate to disappoint you. Maybe next round. ^_^********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - I...I think dildo racing is my new favourite competitive sport. Thanks! You made my year!********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - I know it's in poor taste, but when you use the term 'purple zapper' all I could think was 'purple zapper in her snapper'. I'm sorry, I'll show myself out now...********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************itsi3 - Thanks!********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************jaibhagwan - She does deserve it. Carol deserves all of the things in life that are good and lovely.********************************************************************************************


	14. A Change Is Gonna Come

**__This chapter skips ahead some. Just a warning. This entire story will skip months and years and such, just for fun.__**

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><p><strong>Milton's Historical Logs #272<strong>

**Saturday, November 28, 2015**

Born this morning at approximately 8:13 to Carol and Daryl Dixon one female child, both mother and child came out of it healthy. 8 pounds, 2 ounces, 19 inches. Named Scout Rose Dixon. (Personal note of Milton Mamet, author of this log: the little girl is amazingly beautiful and grabbed my finger! I don't think infants that young possess the motor skills to accomplish that.) Carol asked Grace to name the little girl, since neither Daryl nor herself could come up with one that seemed appropriate. I believe Grace named her after the child in Harper Lee's novel, which she claimed had been her favourite since childhood.

Since returning from Atlanta, I've made note that our supplies are ample enough to last us through the winter and into the spring, thankfully the team managed to find dry goods enough to keep and preserves enough to last, but I feel the need at this point to add that Carl is planning another trip into the city before Christmas comes in the hopes of securing enough for us for future seasons before people get plundering in the city.

The group called a meeting two days ago, wanting to elect a leader, with Rick still weak and keeping his head down, the Alpha females are calling for the leader to be Andrea or Carol, the nuns (former?) are calling for it to be Grace, the only woman who really wants to lead is Andrea, but she doesn't have the support like Carol and Grace do. The Alpha males have chosen to remain quiet about the leadership, no one wants the position, therefore no one is volunteering to nominate or be nominated.

With winter in full swing here, we've been dealing with colds mostly, but Herschel and St. James are worried about influenza. We've been told to prepare for a hard winter.

**Current population: 33 **

**Current forecast: 47º, Overcast**

**Current mood: Elated (She's a really beautiful little girl!)**

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****Daryl****

He really didn't know what to do.

Beside him Carol dozed in the infirmary cot, her face tranquil and beautiful, in a crib nearby lay his little girl, also sleeping off the events of her early morning venture into the world.

He kept getting up and pacing, checking the place for imaginary threats, eyeing everyone who entered with new, suspicious eyes.

Then he would go to the crib, check in on the little girl, his hands itching to hold her again.

He should have never let Herschel put her down for a nap in the first place, he should have held on to her.

He'd hold on to her forever if he had to, just let her ride around on his shoulders where she'd be safest.

This wasn't like a first car or a first home, this was the same, but different. Completely different.

But the same.

He couldn't describe it.

That little girl in that crib was his, he helped make her and she had his blood in her veins.

There was no real way to describe his feeling.

His heart felt like it was going to collapse in on itself and go supernova, but he also felt calm and at peace.

But he also wanted to keep everyone from even touching his daughter.

His daughter.

He never thought he'd have one of those.

"Here, darling," Adele said softly from his side, holding out a jug of cold water purified with that contraption of Milton's. "For Carol."

Daryl took it with a bow of his head in gratitude.

"Anything for your beloved brother?" Fay asked from the cot beside Carol's where he and his girls were allowed to linger, his hands busy making paper cranes as Annie and Olivia quietly coloured in a book at his side.

"Besides a slap?" Adele teased, moving to pinch her brother's arm.

"Oo ye yi!" Fay grumbled gently so as not to wake mother or child. "_Possede_."

"He's not bothering you, is he?" Adele asked Daryl. "Because I can ship him off to the mines if you want."

Daryl shook his head. He liked the backup help in watching over his girls, it comforted him to know Fay (and Merle who was lingering just outside) were there to keep an eye out for his family.

After Adele left, Daryl turned his eyes back on his daughter, watching as she twitched in her sleep, big blue eyes scrunched up, face red from screaming at the world when she entered.

Thinking of how she entered the world, he actually prayed to God that she would leave more peacefully a long, long time from now. He hoped she had a happy, full life.

Suddenly it struck him how hard Carol must have taken Sophia's death. Her screaming and throwing herself irrationally towards her little girl's shuffling form suddenly made sense to him.

He wouldn't let that happen to his girl, his Scout.

He scoffed at the name. He liked it. It came out of nowhere, the book Grace mentioned was familiar to him, but he never read it when they were forced to in school. He took off during those classes, stole some candy and a bottle of root beer from Shady's Shack and went fishing in the creek, the book left in his locker to rot.

Maybe he'd read it now, since winter seemed to have slowed down any of their chores, Grace said she had a copy somewhere on her bookshelf in her office.

"Fay?" He asked softly over Carol's form, hand moving to brush against hers.

"Hn?"

"You ever read that book, you know, the one Grace named Scout after?" He asked.

"To Kill A Mockingbird? Sure, had to in grade school."

"What's it about?"

"Little girl and her brother growing up in dark times, somehow clinging to her innocence, observing everything through a child's eyes and with the guiding wisdom of a strong, patient father."

"That little girl? That's Scout?"

"Yep."

"What kind of dark times?"

"Alabama, during the times of segregation and racism. The story goes that a man named Tom…Tom…Robertson? Something like that. And he's on trial see, for raping a white girl and Scout's daddy is set to defend him in court. The story is told through her eyes."

"Is it good?"

"I liked it. It was a good story, important, I think."

"Scout," Daryl murmured, getting up and checking on his girl, pacing the floor again, checking the windows and door. "She a good girl? This Scout?"

"Yep, little tomboy though, like to beat up the boys when she got riled."

Daryl scoffed.

"Figure that girl is named right," Fay went on, "if she gets her daddy's temper."

"Am I named right?" Annie demanded.

Daryl and the Lieutenant exchanged an amused look. Both men knowing that there was no way Fay would know for sure if the girl was named right or not.

Daryl knew the Cajun would fake it.

Sure enough, Fay smirked and said, "of course, you're named after Annie Edson Taylor."

"Who?"

"The first person who survived going over Niagra Falls in a barrel."

Annie pulled a face as Daryl moved back to the crib where his little girl slept. He watched her quietly, putting her face to memory.

"What about me?" Olivia demanded.

"Olivia de Havilland."

"Who's that?"

"Whatever happens, I'll love you just as I do now until I die," Fay quoted in a squeaky girl's voice.

Both little girls muffled their giggles behind their hands at their daddy.

"I love Gone With the Wind," Carol murmured from the bed, prompting Daryl to race to her side.

He flung himself down in the chair, just as Fay swept the girls to their feet with a grin at Daryl. He paused by Carol's bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead and murmur. "She's a beautiful girl, ange. Perfect little doll."

Carol smiled up at him catching his wrist to stay his exit. "I knew she would be."

Fay beamed. "Amazing little girl. _Petit jolie_."

"You sound like you're smitten, Lieutenant," she teased.

"Hopelessly," the man replied, straightening up and smoothing Carol's hair off her forehead. "She's the luckiest little girl in the world, I think."

"She won't want for love or family," Carol said. "That's for sure."

"We're lucky too, daddy!" Annie declared loudly.

"You two are going to be tossed into a sack and hung over a fire if you don't get back to the dorms and get your homework done," the Lieutenant teased as the three of them left Daryl and Carol in peace.

Daryl offered his girl a small grin after a moment. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, tired though."

"Sorry, we didn't mean to—"

"You didn't," she cut him off. "How is she?"

"Still sleeping."

"Come up here with me," she urged with a small grin.

He tried to smoothly ease onto the bed at her side, but his pant leg got caught against the old crank on the bed and he fumbled, before flopping gracelessly at her side.

He offered her a sheepish wince, which earned a laugh from his girl.

"Smooth," she teased.

Moving in close to her, he nuzzled at the side of her neck and wrapped his arm around her. "Never mind your lip, girl," he growled in her ear.

She beamed and squirmed in his arms.

"Remember when Milton stepped in some of the birth goo and almost fell on his ass?" He asked her after a moment.

She laughed. "I don't remember much, I was kind of busy. Poor Milton."

"I don't think he's seen a woman's underparts in a while," Daryl went on. "He turned a pretty bright shade of red."

"Well, it wasn't a dance party for me neither," she admitted.

Turning over so that he was lying at her side on his back, he kept one foot on the floor to prevent himself from falling off the narrow bed, the other twining with hers.

After a few seconds he got up again and moved to the crib to peer down at his daughter, still amazed that she was his.

Behind him Carol adjusted her position in the bed and said, "so? What do we do now?"

He laughed softly. "I don't know. Never planned for this."

"Me neither," she admitted. "Not for another one. I was still kind of in denial over the fact that I was having another baby at my age. A girl is a nice surprise though, I think."

He turned around. That was one thing he was worried about, Carol having another girl, but she seemed to be okay with it. Her eyes were bright and shining, her face tranquil.

"What did Grace name her again? I was kind of out of it," she asked.

"Scout, Scout Rose Dixon," he answered almost shyly. It was strange for him to call her a Dixon, he assumed he would soon come to terms with the girl being his own flesh and blood.

"Oh, yes," Carol chuckled. "Scout."

"You like it?" He asked.

She nodded. "It's…somehow fitting, I guess. Figures Grace would be a Harper Lee fan."

Daryl immediately straightened at the sounds of mewling coming from the crib behind him and turned to find his little girl squirming, slowly waking, her plump, pink lips mashing together into a duck beak as her pudgy cheeks seemed to push them out.

God, she was so beautiful.

"Here," Carol said almost excitedly, "bring her here. She's probably hungry."

Gingerly he reached into the crib and picked up his girl just as Mrs. Douglas showed him, smiling at the warm, tiny, pudgy girl. He remembered holding Judith, but this was different. This time the baby girl was his and she was amazing. She would grow up to be amazing.

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

**vickih - My friend, I wouldn't post replies here if they weren't open for discussion. A purple zapper in the snapper was my least classy, but favourite thing I've said in a long time.  
><strong>

**Claire Randal Fraser - Oh, knowing baby boy Merle Dixon, he probably shot off at the mouth.**

**auntheddy - Big Momma Thornton, actually. Most of these chapter titles are from the GD&S soundtrack on youtube.**

**Yazzy x - Daryl is such a softie deep down that all Grace had to do was ask. ^_^**

**Surplus Imagination - No Armageddon...yet. ^_^**


	15. Cold Blows the Wind

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><p><strong>December 5, 2015<strong>

**Miss Deveau,**

All is well in Tennessee, I'm pleased that Sergeant Delgado's men have taken it upon themselves to create a sort of mail system in order for all our groups to keep in contact with each other. It makes these reports I send you easier.

My men are wintering well in Fort Knox, we have enough supplies scrounged from Memphis to keep us alive and in good health.

I'm grateful for your report on the condition of your people. It pleases me to know that things are happy and prosperous there. I should also send my congratulations on behalf of myself and my men to Miss Carol for what surely is a beautiful baby girl. We're all relieved both survived the birth and are in good health. I personally look forward to meeting the young lady when we return on our Spring rounds of the two states.

As far as young Annie's inquiries as to whether or not Elvis really did own a pink car that was still parked at Graceland I can confirm that, yes he did and yes there is a 1956 Cadillac Eldorado convertible parked inside the museum there. The jam she sent me was very delicious and I regret to inform her that it was confiscated by Sergeant Fredricks soon after its arrival. I managed to obtain a spoonful and enjoyed it.

As far as Olivia's own contribution to the report you've sent me, I wasn't aware that my hair was green, but now that I have been informed of the situation I have taken care to rectify it. You can send my thanks for the portrait I have it hanging by my desk for the time we spend here and will take it with me when we leave.

As for your inquiry over whether or not we will be returning before Spring, the answer is no, I do not feel like now is the time to be leaving our post here at Fort Knox. We will be around as soon as possible come more clement weather.

I hope you're doing well. And that Celeste and Langdon are happy. If there's anything you need, if I have the capabilities to help, I will do my best. You must know this. I am at your service, Miss Deveau.

**Major Henry O'Hara**

**US Armed Forces (remnants thereof)**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

****Adele****

"I'm going to die."

Looking up from where she was sitting with Celeste and Langdon on the rug in front of Grace's office fireplace where a hearty fire was raging, letter from Major O'Hara in hand, Adele sighed and shook her head at her brother.

"You aren't going to die," she argued. "My God throw a sweater on or something."

"Texian winters with their goddamned Texian chill," Fate went on, teeth chattering as he huddled by the fireplace. "One morning they'll find me curled up like one of those hikers on Mount Everest, huddled over for warmth. I should have never left the bayou."

"I'll be sure to put your body in a more hilarious pose then," she stated. "As least until Spring thaw sets in and you start shuffling around like an uggie."

Sniffling, her brother wriggled further under his heavy blankets as Grace waddled in with a cup of steaming tea in hand.

"Here, put this in your mouth," the woman snarled.

Everyone had been ducking out of her path lately since hormones were amping up as her due date crept on them.

Standing up with Celeste in her arms and Langdon close at her heel, Adele approached Grace tentatively. "Is there anything I can do for you, Grace?" She asked.

"Yes, honey," Grace sighed, easing her ass against her desk and touching a weary hand to her stomach. "You can squeeze my gut until I pop like a pimple."

Adele blinked at her brother, who sullenly sipped at his tea and slipped further down into his blanket maelstrom. Grace only had one more month to go, then she would go back to her sweet, charming self.

Until then, it seemed it was wise to just avoid her.

"Well I'll be around then," she said sweetly, giving Grace a peck on the cheek on her way out, hoping to encourage the woman somehow.

Seemed no one moved very far or very fast since winter set in. Carol and Daryl were holed up in the beautiful little cottage type home Daryl had built for them with their sweet, bubbling baby girl. Even the others in the dorms kept to their rooms. There were only two walking the walls at all times now, just because the threat level was low and the weather was miserable.

It was a dark and lonely winter and while there was no snow on the ground, there was a fairly heavy chill in the air.

The letter (or report as he called it) from Major O'Hara was nice, it was very nice. Sort of old fashioned to send mail, but she supposed it was how things would be for a while yet.

Pace had delivered it just that morning, riding his horse through the cold, quietly speaking with Father O'Rourke at the gate, handing off the letter from O'Hara and one from Ruth in the woods letting them know that they were doing fine, before heading home for a hot meal and a warm bed.

The Texan seemed to switch off mail rounds between himself, Carter and Sid. And it seemed to work, with them riding their horses, keeping to the backroads, moving through the night, riding fast and riding hard.

In the dorm kitchen she found Merle sitting at the table with Dean, Annie and Olivia, the four of them playing poker, Merle patiently teaching the girls how to play, Mary Agnes, or Norma Jean as she asked to be called since following in Grace's footsteps out of the habit and into the secular world, stood at the counter going through their supplies with Sasha.

The two had been put in charge of supplies by Carol, who thought it would be good to have people who specialized in things and no one argued. Whenever she made an appearance from her home, Carol brought with her new and interesting ideas on how to run the convent smoothly.

Grace, it seemed, had become Carol's right hand woman. While Carol came up with the ideas, Grace enforced them.

It was a strange leadership that had just sort of happened, but seemed to work.

Andrea didn't seem to like the idea though. She argued that just because Carol and Grace bossed people around, didn't make it a fair democracy, Grace and Carol usually countered with the fact that they weren't trying to boss people around, only make the convent run efficiently.

Adele didn't know just what to think. She sided with Grace, naturally, because she was family, but she could see Andrea's side of things. They needed a definite leader, a vote to make things fair and honest.

Still, if there was a vote Adele would most likely end up voting for Carol and Grace, they ran the place without being over bearing or dominating. Even with her irritable tendencies as of late, Grace still managed to ask people to do things in such a way that it wasn't a demand, but a request and people seemed eager to do for her, just as they were eager to listen to Carol's wisdom.

Moving to stand beside Toby who was quietly sitting on the floor by the warm kitchen stove, head bent to his math homework, Adele smiled at the boy and set Celeste down to play with her soft plushy lobster and allowed Langdon to grasp her hand as she stood there watching the goings on of the kitchen. Celeste had just begun to sit up last month and this month her baby girl was already able to grasp and shake and wiggle her lobster.

It amazed her that Celeste was growing up so fast. Judith, as well, was on her way to being a toddler quite quickly, as she was already taken tentative steps and had to be placed in a playpen as all she seemed to want to do was go.

That was the task Adele had been given, childcare. She watched over the babies of the convent if needed. Her role would be more important come Spring when people ventured forth more often, for now she only had her own to watch over.

She liked how the place was progressing. Without that many uggies outside the walls (there had only been two sightings since fall), they had somehow all settled enough to finally feel like they could really put down roots.

Glenn was even talking about trading. Since their raids of Atlanta were going so well, he was thinking of setting up a trading post in the nearby plantation where groups from the region could come and trade for things.

Everyone thought it was a wonderful idea and Carol had said that come Spring they would arrange armed people to protect the post and put Glenn in charge of it since it was his idea.

He even came up with the ambitious idea of one day having a travelling trading outfit that could go from neighbouring state to neighbouring state, but that he said would be far down the road.

It was nice to hear people starting to talk about rebuilding society. It was nicer still to think that they had a second chance to do it right. To do things better. To run it smoother.

As for herself, Adele had begun to look around the convent at available men for a husband. She wanted Celeste and now Langdon (who it seemed she sort of adopted without knowing it) to have a nice family structure, in the off chance something happened to her and her brother, but she feared the one person she had set her sights on was hopelessly unavailable (if the overly professional nature of his report was to be believed).

Not that she was going to give up, but she thought she'd keep her options open. There were some good bachelors available at the convent who would also be very good fathers and husbands.

Hell, she even had Mr. Blue on her shortlist. Just because he was a very kind man, who sort of oozed fatherly charm. She wasn't putting anyone out to pasture. Not when it came to her daughter's safety and happiness.

So far her short list of husbands consisted of Mr. Blue, Tyreese, the younger Kowalski brother and St. James. But she kept her eye on Rick closely, just in case he ever looked like he was about to become interested in anything other than his daughter and those silly little feathery fishing hooks he had come to find he liked to work on to keep busy. No one knew why he was doing it, but he seemed content.

Adele worried about him though. Everyone did. But no one wanted to tell him that he couldn't just step back for once, no one had the heart to throw him back out into the white capped waters to sink or swim, so whenever Carl and Glenn made their supply runs, they would bring back the supplies Rick needed.

It still broke her heart a little.

"I have a lot of house," Annie declared loudly and showed her cards to the entire table.

"Full house," Merle corrected. "And that's a goddamned straight."

"Whatever it is, I have it and I win," Annie stated dragging in her winnings.

"Fucking little turd monkey," Merle growled, tossing in his cards for Dean to deal. "How the shit are you winning over there?"

"Just lucky I guess!" Annie stated swinging her legs under the table and taking a gulp of her homemade iced tea like an old card sharp drinking their whiskey from a tumbler.

The girl was spending far too much time with Merle lately and it was beginning to show in the most unexpectedly adorable way. Merle had softened somewhat, not enough to not scare Adele a little, but enough that people didn't hesitate to go 'aw' whenever they caught him and Annie or Olivia on some kind of adventure, one or the other of oftentimes both girls would be trailing behind him like a shadow as Merle ambled about the convent.

It was different from when they draped themselves off of Adele's brother as the man moved about, it was almost respectful but also adoring, far different from the outright love and worship they seemed to possess for their father, but with Uncle Merle it was almost shyly done. Like both girls were too nervous to out rightly adore Merle, so were content to just trail behind him in the hopes he'd offer to entertain them somehow.

Even now, sitting at the table with him, both girls kept their eyes on Merle adoringly, waiting for a prompt from him or any sign of affection or approval.

It was sweet, the man tried hard to not be affected by these two sprites, but they seemed to be the only ones who he ever let get away with certain things.

It wasn't hard for someone who was looking to notice how Merle adored the girls in return. How his eyes softened when he found one or the other smiling at him, how even though he claimed to be annoyed by the two girls, he always seemed to have time to teach them something new and always tried to answer questions they asked him.

Adele had to admit that until she learned that Norma Jean had claimed him, Merle had been on her short list at one point.

But she was pleased to hear that he at least had a good woman. He certainly deserved one.

No, their convent group was growing wonderfully. She was happy, despite everything.

Everyone seemed happy in their own way.

But she somehow knew that it meant that they would find themselves taking a hard fall.

Seemed that was how things went lately.

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

**Guest - Heartache and tragedy...isn't that how TWD goes? Hehe. ^_^**

**Claire Randall Fraser - You know that Dixon clan is like wolves. They protect their own fiercely. Newborns especially.**

**auntheddy - Ugh, now I'm craving cheese. Thanks.**

**vickih - Oh, you know daddy Daryl is going to be hopelessly devoted and very protective.**

**Yazzy x - Thanks. I thought long and hard on it. Daryl is a hard nut to crack, but I think he'd be completely overwhelmed a little by the fact that he's actually a daddy.**

**Ciao Bella - Good question! The kind I love! ^_^ Carol didn't have a C-Section, because I looked into it and because she had a child before, she wouldn't have half the trouble Grace will. Grace will probably have a C-Section performed.**

**Brazen Hussy - Don't think I put Merle into this chapter just for you...you're getting spoiled. ^_^**

**itsi3 - He becomes a big child when babies are involved. Giant squishy...**

**Surplus Imagination - I refuse to even believe that you could think that Carol would look anything but amazingly beautiful. She's a goddess and always perfect. *cheesy grin* Yes, it was Daryl's rose coloured glasses. He thinks like me. Carol could never, ever be awful looking. She could be covered in troll snot and he'd still find her sexy as hell.**

**Princess Cruella - Thanks for the review! And thanks for reading! I enjoy it when people enjoy this series! It pleases me. Grace should be one month from her due date in this chapter. She's two months behind Carol.**


	16. Spirit In The Sky

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><p><strong>Milton's Historical Logs #265<strong>

**Sunday, December 24, 2015**

By my calculations its Christmas time at the convent.

Not that that means anything. It's been a fairly cold snap this past week, so everyone is holing up inside their buildings and homes, fires blazing in whatever fireplace they managed to cobble together.

Me? I've been holed up watching over Toby in the wolves den. The boy has been sick with a bad cold for a week now and I'm beginning to get worried. Any longer and I'll have St. James look him over for signs of something serious. I worry that the boy may not be telling me how sick he is, he tends to keep things to himself a lot and I can't figure out why he's been so quiet and withdrawn lately.

The election Andrea has been asking for has finally been called.

How it came about was like this, I bear witness as I was there.

Andrea had been going around the convent discontent with her lot in life so she's been talking (loudly) about elections for months.

She was doing so with as much emphasis as she could in the kitchens, when Grace – eight months pregnant and a wee bit terrifying with hormonal urges to murder and maim – says 'Andrea, if you want to do this so officially then let's have a vote and shut you up for good!'

I've never seen Grace so angry and I'm sure I wasn't the only one shocked to see her.

For what felt like hours no one moved, no one said anything, then Carol stepped forward and spoke – her beautiful little girl in her arms, giving Carol the appearance of some Nordic All-Mother goddess. Half warrior, half matron.

"I'd kind of like one too," she said.

That was it. The decision. History in the making wasn't made in some hall of male dominated power, but a homey convent kitchen.

We held a group meeting in the church where nominations were made.

Rick, Carol, Andrea, Grace and shockingly Merle were all tossed into the mix.

We were given coloured marbles from an old Chinese checkers board. White for Rick, black for Carol, green for Andrea, yellow for Grace and red for Merle.

I took my time, mulling over the options.

Rick declined the nomination during this time, having done some mulling of his own.

I chose yellow, since this place was originally under Grace's leadership (and despite her horrifying turn, she is normally a fair and just woman.)

The votes rolled in (no pun intended.)

It was Carol by just two, beating Grace out only marginally. No one dared argue, it was all done fairly and Andrea couldn't complain.

Carol's first task was to elect Grace as co-leader, which was a clever move, it solidified both majority votes.

I think, in my own personal opinion, that I would follow both women to hell and back. I trust them that much.

**Current population: 35**

**Current forecast: 7º**

**Current mood: Loyal**

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****Merle****

"No."

Carol held up the red suit and jiggled it temptingly, a cheeky grin splitting her face. "Please? You'd make the kids so happy."

"Shit no!" He declared.

"Think how happy those children will be," Grace chimed in, a pair of black boots and a doofy Santa Claus hat in her hands. "Think of the suffering they've seen. Of the hardship they've been through."

He scowled deeply and looked over at his woman who was trying on the beard and wig with an adorable smile.

"Come on," he pleaded to her.

"It's all for the children!" Norma Jean said with a soft twinkle to her pretty brandywine eyes.

He eyed the stupid assed costume one final time before snatching it from Carol's hands. "Jesus fuck," he muttered, pushing past them for a room to change.

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

He emerged from the bathroom eighty pounds heavier and forty years older, but somehow none the wiser.

"You look perfect," Carol gushed as the three women rushed him, hands moving to adjusted and pull at his costume.

"If I looked perfect then why are you touching me?" He snarled, slapping their hands away.

Storming outside, he stomped into the church and slumped into a pew angrily, waiting for the dumb ass Christmas thing to be over.

Eventually he was joined in the pew by Jesus and an angel, one on either side of him.

Merle beamed at his baby brother, who looked mad as a wet hen under his crown of thorns. "Nice dress."

"Shut up, fat ass!" Daryl-Jesus growled. "Carol pulled in a goddamned favour."

"What kind?"

"Sexual," the angel replied smugly.

"You look like Liberace," Merle pointed out, turning to face the angel and taking in the haze of silver glitter that shrouded the Lieutenant and his white robes.

"I feel like Liberace," the Lieutenant said.

"Couldn't find a woman to play the angel, huh?"

"Mais, this was the more dignified option left," the Cajun said. "At least this costume has a flaming sword."

"What? Why? Are there others?" Merle demanded, basking in the karmic joy that peeked over the horizon of his shame and misery.

"Have you seen the elf and Rudolph?" Daryl asked.

"Shit no!" Merle exclaimed with a deep belly laugh. "Who?"

Behind them the door to the church opened and Cash and Glenn entered, both men looking sullen.

Cash was dressed in a green stocking cap with bells, fake elf ears, a candy cane theme to both his long sleeved shirt and socks, green short pants and vest and little curled shoes with bells.

Glenn had antlers and a red reindeer nose with whiskers on.

Both men looked miserable.

"You look like a dick," Merle exclaimed, sliding out of the pew to join the other men in mocking Cash.

Cash hauled off and punched Merle in the pillow gut.

Laughing it off (this time) Merle turned and grabbed the hem of his brother's robe. "What's under the dress, Darlina?"

"Fuck off, Merle!" Daryl snapped, skirting his brother's reach.

"Go ahead, _beede_," Fay said as Merle's eyes turned on him with wicked intent, "I dare you."

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

"Now, Layla and Nadir said they don't mind attending, but we thought we'd respect their religion and at least keep the mass to a decent twenty minutes and since it's close enough to Mawlid an-Nabi they don't mind not celebrating since I understand that's what Muhammad asked for his birthday," Mary Claire explained as she wiped down the pews.

Merle was still hiding out in the church, dressed like an asshole, watching as the others grew impatient and uncomfortable in their costumes, when his girl came and flopped down on his lap beaming at him.

She was adorable, but he wasn't pleased with her at the moment.

"Come on, you grumpy bear," she cooed. "It's all for the kids. Those babies have been through hell and they deserve a party like we had."

He shrugged. "Whatever. I better get some loving tonight for this."

"Depends on how good you act the part, because here come your audience," she purred.

He looked over his shoulder as Norma Jean got off his lap.

The children of the convent poured in.

The happy, shining looks in their eyes broke his heart and he sighed, moving towards the chair they had for him to sit in.

Olivia made a beeline for him, leaping into his lap.

"Hi, Santa!" She chirped.

He glanced over at the adults who were pouring in and sighed. "Hi, little girl."

"Aw, he ain't real!" Annie stated loudly, pushing Olivia off his lap to climb into it herself, peering at his face hard, before touching his stump conveniently hidden by a mitten. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but said nothing.

"Don't be a little…brat," he cleaned up his language, eyeing Norma Jean who was giggling beside him. "Or you'll go on my…brat…list." He glanced at Norma Jean to confirm he had that right.

"Your naughty list, Santa," she corrected.

"So?" Annie demanded. "Then what happens?"

"Then I, uh, break into your little shi…uh, home and…break something of yours that you like."

Annie blinked up at him.

"Like her leg?" Olivia asked with wide eyes.

"I love my leg," Annie confirmed. "Hey look!" She shouted suddenly, pointing at Cash, "a stupid elf!"

The girls scampered off laughing, terrorizing Cash instantly, leaving Toby behind to blink up at him from behind his glasses.

"Hey, kid," Merle greeted, patting his lap.

The boy shyly climbed up into his lap and eyed him.

"So, uh…get to the point," Merle snarled.

"I know you're not really Santa Claus," Toby whispered. "But I won't tell anyone, Mister Merle."

Merle scoffed. "Alright."

"Can I still tell you what I want for Christmas, though?" Toby asked. "Just in case you have some pull with the real Santa."

Merle chuckled at the boy. "Sure."

"I know you can't bring the dead back, well, not in a way that doesn't make them fetid and animalistic," Toby began. "But can you give me a good daddy and mommy? Maybe Mister Milton?"

Toby shrugged. "Because he's smart and tells me things when I ask and he doesn't make me feel dumb."

"I'll see what I can do, squirt," Merle said. "Anything else?"

"No, well, maybe let Annie stop having her night terrors," Toby said. "She doesn't deserve to be that scared at night. And give Olivia a princess tiara and make everyone happy and let us grow good crops next summer."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks." Toby slid off his lap and turned to look at Merle with an earnest expression. "Bye now."

"Bye."

Spying the Lieutenant and Daryl pulling Annie off of roughly play fighting with Cash while Glenn shouldered Nadir and spun the boy, Merle got up to join the fun just as Olivia stabbed Daryl with the cardboard flaming sword.

"Olivia!" Grace shouted across the church. "Don't stab Our Lord and Saviour!"

"Dog pile!" Annie shouted over Grace's scolding, attacking Merle suddenly and knocking him off the chair.

He found three kids launching themselves on top of him hard.

"Nadir!" Layla scolded her son who was joining the dog pile.

Merle laughed under the kids as they giggled and sat on him.

"Get off me you little shits!" He hollered, having enough when Clyde and Boo the dogs joined in, licking his face.

"Real dog pile!" Annie shouted dramatically as all three kids ran away in mock fear, the dogs on their heels.

Sitting up, dazed from the experience, Merle found his girl standing over him doubled over in laughter.

"Keep laughing, woman," he growled playfully, getting to his feet with some difficulty.

He stopped all laughter as Judith toddled over to him on wobbly legs, Carl close behind.

The little girl took hold of his pant leg and peered up at him with fearless blue eyes.

"Santa," Carl explained to his sister slowly, hoping she'd catch on.

The girl just stared up at him quietly.

Merle reached down and scooped the brat up with one arm and cradled her against him, still staring at her.

She blinked and then beamed, burbling to him and holding out the teething toy she held in a gummy, chubby hand.

"Gross," he said to her.

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

By the time the kids had all opened the gifts scrounged for them from local stores, by the time they had played themselves out so much so that they could barely move from where they lay draped over the adults shoulders, the night had fallen and the stars had come out.

Standing out on the church house stile with his brother and the others, the children in their arms blanketed protectively against the Georgian winter chill, watching the stars blaze overhead.

"I don't think I've seen them this beautiful in a long time," Rick murmured, his baby girl in his arms.

"It's nice," Carol added. "Haven't stargazed in so long."

"'s pretty," Annie murmured from Lafayette's right shoulder where she draped, her little hand linked at the pinkie over his back with Olivia who slept on his left shoulder sweetly.

Merle spied Dean nearby, lingering in the shadows and moved towards the boy.

The kid eyed the sky quietly.

"Hey," he said to the boy.

Dean nodded in greeting to him.

"Here," Merle reached into the deep pocket of his Santa pants and pulled out a gift wrapped in newspaper. "For Christmas."

The boy eyed the gift, before taking it. "Thanks."

"Well, it's better than that necklace Norma Jean got you, more practical."

Dean quietly opened the present.

Inside a plain box was a handful of condoms.

"Thanks," Dean said. "I guess."

"Hey, the clap is serious. That shit burns like hell," Merle said. "Be responsible."

"I like the necklace Norma Jean gave me," Dean argued lightly, touching the silver winter tree that hung around his neck.

"Whatever, you'll be thanking me for those rubbers when you get older and better at picking up women."

"Maybe I'll pick up guys," Dean said deadpanned.

Merle frowned up at the sky.

"Or maybe I won't pick up anyone at all and sell these off like prison smokes," Dean went on with a wry grin.

"'atta boy," Merle said, clapping his good hand on the back of Dean's neck and squeezing warmly.

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

**Claire Randall Fraser - I agree. The idea of the world going to hell as badly as it has in TWD and society rebuilding itself intrigues me as well.  
><strong>

**vickih - Hormones, man. They can turn a pussycat into the ghost and the darkness type lions.**

**Yazzy x - *whispers* I ship them too...**

**Brazen Hussy - There you are my spoiled friend. An entire Merle chapter. I hope it fuels the fire for you. ^_^**

**Ciao Bella - Didn't manage a Merle/Grace confrontation, but how about an Andrea/Grace one? And I'm not sure about Rick, maybe...the story is young and there's many miles to go. ^_^**

**Merle's Right Hand - Honestly, dude, I'm just glad you're okay. I was seriously getting really worried. You need to check in, man. I worry like a mother hen. (ps: love you, girl.)**

**Surplus Imagination - I hope to find someone so there's more children soon, otherwise the group will die out and there'll be no one to carry on their clan.**


	17. Death Letter Blues

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><p><strong>Milton's Historical Logs #290<strong>

**Sunday, January 25, 2016**

Born late yesterday evening at approximate 7:34 to Grace and Lafayette one male child, mother had some difficulty due to her age, but both came out of it strong and healthy thanks to Hershel and some old fashioned farm birthing techniques. 8 pounds, 1 ounce and 24 inches. Named Lafayette Herschel Vancoughnett V. (Personal note of Milton Mamet, author of this log: the baby boy was named after his father's family name and Herschel who saved both mother and child with a split decision caesarian.)

Blue came to the convent today with word of some strange army truck driving around the area. He said his kids spied only three people driving it, said the back was full of junk and that the side was painted with a large white peace sign and the words 'willing to trade'.

The convent is torn between making contact with these people and eliminating a potential threat. We've finally settled on sending out a small group to meet with them, to feel out these outsiders.

On a personal I've decided to take Toby under my supervision and tutelage. I feel he has the makings of a great scientific mind. I don't want to use the term 'father' but with none of his own left alive, I suppose the role has fallen on me. This decision has nothing to do with Daryl talking to me, encouraging me in his quiet, backwoods sage way to adopt the boy. But…Daryl can relate a great epic without ever saying a word and I respect that about him. He holds his tongue, but he knows the world.

**Current population:** 37 (Blue is still here, so I suppose he counts.)

**Current forecast:** 14º, Flurries

**Current mood:** Irritated (the Lieutenant won't stop bragging about his newborn son.)

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

****The Lieutenant****

"Naw, she's still out, put her in."

The two men huddled over the crib, Daryl easing his baby girl inside to lie beside the Lieutenant's new son, both daddies smiling down broadly at the two squirming little pot roasts.

"You know, _cabri_—"

"No," Daryl stated. "My girl's smarter than that."

"What are you trying to say, goat-breath?" Fay demanded, still grinning at his son and Daryl's little girl.

"Ain't no girl of mine gonna let no half Cajun spawn touch her."

Even as Daryl said this, his baby girl jerked her little arm out and smacked Lafayette V in the chest.

"Looks like she's the one doing the touching," Fay teased.

"Yeah," Daryl snapped, "she's already smacking your kid into place."

"What are you two giggling about over there?" Carol demanded as she entered the infirmary with an armload of clean blankets for the closet.

"Nothing," Fay said a little too fast, earning a suspicious look from the woman, behind her Annie and Olivia skittered, tip-toeing up to Grace's bed, eyeing her quietly.

Moving to scoop up Annie, the Lieutenant kissed her cheek and said, "she's still sleeping. You two go on out and play now, I'll come and get you when she wakes."

"Is she really?" Annie demanded, critically eyeing her mama.

"When have I ever hornswaggled you, boo?"

The girl turned those critical eyes on him.

Leaning in, he blew a raspberry on the side of her neck, causing the girl to giggle and squirm until he released her to the floor.

The two girls grabbed hands and raced off outside, leaving the adults alone.

"You find people to go meet with those traders?" Daryl asked, his hand in the crib wriggling at his little girl's own chubby digits.

"Of course, always people willing to help out," Carol said. "Now, asking them to do their own damned laundry…"

"Should put a tariff on random work done for others around here," Grace murmured from the bed.

Lafayette was on his knees at her bedside in a flash, head nestling down beside hers on the pillow, hand moving for her hand.

"How are you, my love?" He asked, not even noticing Carol and Daryl slinking out with their little girl.

"My mouth is dry and my stomach feels like a timber wolf tore into it," his girl replied.

He reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and helped her take a drink. "They had to cut into you to get him out."

Grace's eyes widened in panic. "Is he?"

"Fine, he's fine. It's a he, a tiny little, soft boy." He replaced her glass and took her hand again. "I'm sorry, I mean, all this trouble, but—"

"Oh, shut up, bring my baby," Grace waved him in the direction of the crib.

He could tell by the shine in her eyes that she wasn't at all upset about anything, she was happy, she was elated, she was shining bright and he had never seen her brighter.

Carefully he moved to pluck their son out of his crib, bringing him to his mother.

Grace took the baby with a broad grin. "Oh Lord…" she gasped. "Oh, he looks like a little angel! Well," she dropped solemnly, eyeing the Lieutenant, "he looks like you."

"Perfect little _ange_," he teased. "Beautiful like his mama," he lied. Truth was Gracie looked like she went through the wringer a few times and still came out damp. Her hair was sticking up in places, a thin sheen of sweat still coated her pale skin and her eyes had grey bags hanging from them that could knock an elephant on his ass. But to him she was never lovelier holding their son.

Grace was still, eyes on their baby, mouth a thin, taut line.

"You alright?"

"Um-hm, my first baby," she whispered.

"Mine too," he confessed with a small grin.

"I should hope so, you dog," Grace stated with some of her old fire.

Cringing, he laughed and stood up. "I'm going to get the girls in here," he said. "They've been worried about you."

Grace nodded, still unable to tear her eyes away from her son.

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

Outside he approached the wall, where Merle and a few other stood, rifles and guns in hand.

By the tense posture they held, he got the feeling something was on the other side of the stone, something he couldn't see.

"What's going on?" He asked Andrea who was standing below Merle on the wall.

"Shufflers," Merle said.

Frowning, the Lieutenant hopped the wall and peered down at a mass of rotting corpses quietly.

"We haven't seen any for months," Sister Joan said from the other side of Merle. "Now a whole herd of them?"

"If there's this many," Merle said. "I don't want to shoot them down from the wall, if there's more out there we can't see."

Turning to find Carol striding towards them, rifle in hand, he waited for her decision.

Daryl was nowhere in sight, probably holed up with the baby.

"Chance it," she said. "If there's more, we only have to worry about the gate."

Merle exchanged a look with Sister Joan, before shrugging.

"Cut 'em down!" He commanded the others on the wall.

Leaping down after those on the wall shot down the uggies, he approached Carol.

She looked worried, but only for him, as Glenn joined them, she offered the young man and kind smile.

"Probably just roamers," she assured him.

Glenn furrowed his brow, but didn't argue, choosing instead to go cover the gate in case there were more.

"I wonder where such a large group is coming from," Carol mused to him.

"I don't know, but I can find out for you," he said. "Just give me the order, General."

She smirked at him. "Grace just had a baby, Lieutenant, let one of the others go."

"The only person here who can track is Daryl," he pressed. "Him or me?"

"I'll get Daryl to—"

"Me it is!" He broke in. "I'll get my rifle and get on it!"

Turning at the peach tree, he shouted. "Don't worry, General, I'll be back in time for dinner!"

**__..-~-..__**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

Sending the girls in to see their mama, he grabbed his pack and Marie, before heading out.

Carol stopped him as he left the dorms, her hands adjusting her rifle on her back, her face grim.

"General," he greeted, moving past her.

She caught up with him.

"Something more?" He asked her.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

He stopped. "I'm torn between arguing that point and keeping my damned Marine mouth shut, General," he continued to tease.

She shifted on her feet. "If we'll be back for dinner…with Grace out, I'm in charge and it's my duty to know exactly what's going on. I can't send you out without offering you back up."

"I'll take Merle, then, or Glenn or Tyreese," he offered.

"You're taking me," she said.

He shifted on his feet. "I don't know…if there's uggies out there…"

"We'll take them down and get to the bottom of this new surge of walkers," she stated firmly.

"Does Daryl—"

"Would I be walking this way with you if he did?" She asked. "Let's get it over fast enough and get home."

"Well," he began, "you know saying it like that…it's a sure sign that something's going to happen…"

"Let's hope it doesn't."

"I feel like I'm in one of those war movies," he confessed as they got Glenn to open the gate for them.

"The General in those is usually some big, burly Idahoan with a cigar in his mouth," she pointed out, eyes on the cattle trail and the woods around them, just in case there were lingerers. "I'm decidedly not that."

"No," he admitted, eyeing the shuffle marks the uggies left in the ground and trying to source out a direction they came from. Uggies moved in packs, so it was safe to say they migrated as a herd.

He motioned them in a direction and they headed into the woods, off the trail, heading west.

"We see an uggie, you let me get it," he whispered to her. "I have the silencer on Marie."

She nodded and moved in close to him, covering his ass.

He paused at more disturbed leaves and motioned them to the north a little, heading for the highway.

They both stopped short at a crashing coming from up ahead and he raised his rifle.

Three uggies came barrel assing out of the woods and he shot them down, but four more followed and he barked to Carol, "climb up a tree, ange, let me handle this!"

She gave him a hard look and took out her knife, running at the uggies.

He shot one down as it made for her, keeping them off her ass as she stabbed two in the face, turning on a third as more poured from the woods.

Running low and not wanting Marie to run dry, he paused long enough to load her, but found them on him too fast, so he used Marie's barrel to knock the assholes down.

Smashing in the face of one uggie, he found Carol launching herself to his rescue, finishing the job.

They both stood back-to-back, ready for another onslaught.

When none came, he paused to properly load Marie, while Carol eyed the bodies.

"Do we keep going or turn back?" She asked him, covering a little girl corpse with a jacket from her own shoulders.

Frowning at the woman who was baring herself in Georgian winter, he dropped his pack to remove his jacket for her, eyeing the woods around them.

"I'm going to keep on," he said, wrapping her up in his jacket. "I want to know where the hell these uggies are coming from."

"We could be traipsing all the way to the Arctic circle for all we know," she pointed out.

"If that's what it takes to figure out just what the hell is going on…"

"We'll hit the highway," she said. "If we can't figure it out by then, we go home."

He nodded. "By your orders, General."

"And knock that off," she suggested, leading him through the woods like she knew what the hell she was doing tracking the uggies.

He smiled and caught her by the upper arms, turning her down the right direction, following the disturbed leaves on the forest floor, allowing her to lead them since she had it in her head to do that anyways.

**__..-~-..__**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

**Merle's Right Hand - No, but you have no idea how much I missed you, girl. You're like a slice of lemon meringue pie on a dark, dreary winter morning.**

**itsi3 - Thanks!**

**vickih - You know they'd make the best leaders anyways. Women get shit done right.**

**Yazzy x - Yeah, I'm the same way. For a big tough guy, Merle really is a softie at heart. Deep, deep down there somewhere...he's got one and it's huge. That...could be taken wrong...I was talking about his heart...his...in the chest...O_O Okay, I'm just going to go stand over here now...**

**Brazen Hussy - If you're happy, I'm happy. ^_^**

**Claire Randall Fraser - Dean is a little Daryl-ish, isn't he? Only, I like to think that the devil on his shoulder leads him more often than not...**

**jaibhagwan - LOL! I had to look that one up! Love it! Perfect! Thanks for the laugh!**

**Ciao Bella - It's funny from a distance...I'd imagine everyone started to head for the hills when Grace came around after that. ^_^**

**Surplus Imagination - Well, I'd imagine with nothing better to do during winter, there were plenty of people volunteering to make costumes...I like to think people are getting cabin fever from just waiting around for spring to plant crops and such.**


	18. Blue Moon of Kentucky

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><p><strong>Case Report #370<strong>

**Major Henry O'Hara**

**5th Infantry**

At approximately 0900 hours my men came across an anomaly of curious proportions.

In a shallow grave 50 feet by 80 feet we found a group of what looked like fresh infected, they were bound at the ankles and wrists and tied to each other in one long chain of infected. The old hemp ropes that held them down half rotted, like someone was waiting for nature to take effect and for the brute strength of infected to release themselves.

This location was about 35.5 latitude and 86.5 longitudes in Tennessee, just east of Sinking Creek.

Who is out here? Who does this? Where did these fresh infected come from? Could this have anything to do with the burnt corpses we found in the north?

The woods are eerily still, like something is scaring away all the animals and we still can't find tracks to lead us to the source of these infected.

I've lost contact with one of my patrols to the west, I fear it may have been 'the Skulls' behind this disappearance. They are a lawless group of post-apocalyptic Mad Max fanatics who seem to think this new world is their playground. If contact isn't regained within a month I'll have to accept the patrol as lost and the Skulls responsible.

Met up with a fairly amiable fellow and his family travelling in a beat up old VW bus, called them the Partridges. They appear to be making their living on trading junk for junk, seemed harmless so I sent them south to Georgia. I didn't give them specifics about the groups there, just said they may find trading there.

We set them up with one of our military transports. We have too damned many just rotting anyways. In trade they gave us about forty pounds of .22 ammo and some canned peaches.

Reminds me of Georgia. Think we'll check in on them down south as soon as May comes.

**__..-~-..__**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

****Blue****

He was returning from feasting on canned meat in the kitchen, heading for the gate and home, when he found a cacophony of noise and arguing coming from the yard.

Shrugging on his jacket, he joined Elise in watching that boy Daryl and his brother have it out loudly.

"What do you mean you just let her go?" Daryl snarled.

Rocking back on one foot, Blue watched those two good ol' Georgia boys have at her, getting in each other's faces, spittle flying.

"I'm not her goddamned daddy, baby bro and you best get out of my face with that attitude!" Merle growled back.

"Goddamned woman should know better!" Daryl shouted, pacing now, eyeing everyone with dangerous, heated eyes.

In Elise's arms Daryl's new baby girl squirmed and began to cry.

Elise hurried the girl inside as the Dixon's continued to have it out.

"How the hell could any of you just let her go out with walkers about?!" Daryl demanded, pointing at them. "You all too chicken shit to head out yourself?"

Sensing the scene getting messy and hearing the word walker, Blue stepped forward, scratching his head. "Now, hold on there, was that was all that shooting was about? I thought you all were testing those door stops of yours."

"Big herd of them," that boy Glenn supplied.

"How big?" Blue demanded, letting Daryl continue to rage, pulling Glenn aside.

"Big enough."

Licking his bottom lip, Blue skipped into a trot, before opening it up into a full blown gallop, heading for the gate.

Jesus, the kids! He thought, not even waiting for them to open the gate for him, but leaping the wall and diving over.

"Mr. Blue!" Someone shouted.

He didn't pause to see who it was, didn't even slow his ass down, just tore through the woods as fast as his old legs could carry him.

Something knocked his ass backwards and he scrambled with it, knowing the smell of rotted meat wasn't anything good. Getting a good foothold, he kicked the thing off him and shot it, before turning his rifle on another creature that was flying at him.

Someone shot another who was creeping up behind him and he whirled to find Glenn standing there holding a rifle, the young man covering his ass expertly.

Without waiting to thank him, Blue motioned for him to follow and the two headed off for the well hidden home and Blue's kids.

They skittered to a halt at the clearing to his home, Blue almost collapsing onto his ass as the sight.

"Oh Jesus," he moaned. "No, no, no, no!"

Nearby a wee walker lifted her ugly face and eyed him with diseased eyes.

Blue collapsed to his knees. "Oh no, no, no…" he wailed.

"Come on, Mr. Blue, there may be some left," Glenn said softly.

"No," he gasped.

The child walker dragged herself closer, hands out for him.

"Mr. Blue, come on, get up," Glenn urged, shooting the girl down mercifully.

"Oh, Lord Jesus! Caroline!"

More child walkers shuffled from around the house and he felt Glenn's hand on his shoulder, tightening. "Don't give up, come on. Let's see if any survived."

"Blue! Blue!" A cherubic angel chirped from high above his head.

He sniffled and looked skywards at the trees overhead. "Where are you, girl?" He demanded, recognizing the voice as Liddy's.

"Up here!" Liddy said. "Everyone else got inside, but I got trapped, I'm up here like a treed possum!"

He smiled sadly. "You surely are, darling. Stay up there, Glenn and I'll get you down, Possum!"

"Hurry, the branch is making snappy sounds!"

Standing up, Blue eyed the child walkers who were approaching him, trying hard to imagine they weren't the sweet babies he loved, raising his rifle.

He shot.

He shot and shot and shot until his rifle went click and nothing moved.

"I can't hold on, Blue!" Liddy shouted. "I'm coming down!"

"Hang on, Possum!" He shouted back, but with several cracks and snaps the girl flopped down hard on him and he struggled to hold on to her.

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. "I don't want to see anything, okay?" She whispered.

"Okay, darling, come on, let's get the others. We're getting the hell out of here. Glenn, your people will put us up?"

Glenn nodded. "Of course, I'll start burying the kids," the young man said, his voice cracking on the word 'kids'.

Blue thanked him and headed for the house, where he knew the others would be holed up in the cellar.

He stepped inside cautiously, his knife in hand. There was only one walker clawing weakly at the cellar door and thankfully it wasn't one of his children.

Swinging Liddy onto his back, he moved for the thing, ramming his knife into the back of its skull.

It landed heavily on the cellar door, earning a few screams of fright from the children below.

Kicking the foul beast off the door, Blue knocked on it hard. "Ruth, you down there?"

There was no reply.

"Come on, girl, Jesus!"

"She's scared, Blue," someone chirped.

"Buck? You open this door now, it's okay, we're safe," Blue commanded.

Carefully the lock was undone and Buck crawled out, the sweet boy clutching his fiddle case tightly, his face pale, the freckles on it standing out like pepper on mashed potatoes.

"Come on, boy," Blue said. "We're getting the hell out of here."

"I didn't save Cara," the boy whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, darling, you just stand over there with Liddy," he said, poking his head down into the cellar. "Ruth? Get on up here!" He said, unable to see in the dark.

Maddy crawled out, followed by Dawson and Critter, but there was no Ruth.

"She's scared stiff," Critter lisped.

Wiping his snotty nose with his sleeve, Blue sent the boy over with the others and handing his knife over to Dawson, he leapt into the cellar and allowed his eyes to adjust.

Ruth huddled in the corner, quiet, shaking.

"Come on, girl," he said sternly. "We've lost young ones before."

"You were right," she whispered, still trembling. "We should have moved into the convent."

"Aw well," Blue scratched his head. "Maybe now you'll quit goin' around your ass to get to your elbow." He suggested. "But I ain't one to say I told you so, so let's get our tails in gear and head for high water."

"It happened so fast, Blue," Ruthie said, standing up on shaking legs with a lot of help from him.

"Girl," he mused gently, trying to lighten the mood, "you're shakin' like a hound dog trying to shit a peach pit."

"Oh God, did anyone make it from outside?" She warbled.

"Liddy, girl climbed a damned tree. Think I'mma call her Possum from now on," he said.

"Oh, small miracles," Ruth whispered. "Oh God, Blue!"

"I know," he said. "I know, darling. Come on. We'll be alright, we'll pick up our asses and haul them home now."

When they got back to the convent, after burying the children, Blue was exhausted and found Daryl still mad as a wet hen, marching around in an absolute fury, but Merle was nowhere in sight.

As they slipped in the gate with the children all linked by hands, Mary Claire whispered, "I'm so sorry," when she took a head count.

They settled the children in the dorms, in Graces' office in front of her large fireplace, the poor young ones all shivering and frightened from their ordeal, Ruth even worse off.

Blue felt the loss deeply too, but he offered his children kind smiles and playful tickles with a brave face, recovering from his initial pain for their sake.

Buck reached for his fiddle, something that went everywhere with him since it was his daddy's and rosined his bow, before dragging it mournfully across the strings of his fiddle.

"Blue moon of Kentucky keep on shining, shine on the one that's gone and proved untrue," the boy wailed in a real southern twang. "Blue moon of Kentucky keep on shining, shine on the one that's gone and left me blue."

"A woman can't even recover in bed anymore!" He heard someone outside the office declared loudly.

Grace limped in, holding her stomach tightly, her face pale from her journey, that St. James fellow hovering behind her looking disapproving.

Pausing as though she wasn't expecting them in her office, Grace blinked, before sagging against St. James.

"What happened?" She panted gently, weak and looking like she was about to pass out.

"You're out of bed AMA," St. James snarled darkly.

Grace pushed the man away roughly and staggered to her desk, where she collapsed in the chair. "Infected?" She asked Ruth.

The woman was still in shock.

"Yeah," Blue offered.

"Us too, from the sounds of it," Grace said. She coughed and winced, grabbing her stomach again.

"If you pull those stitches I will nail you to that fucking bed," St. James growled. Pausing and eyeing the children sheepishly. "Sorry," he said to Blue.

"Aw, hell no, go on, a good curse word never ruined a child's ears," Blue said, pocketing his hands.

"Mind your foul mouth," Grace panted. "You…filthy…whatever."

"See," St. James replied, "you're in such bad shape you can't even find a name to call me."

"Busybody," Grace murmured. "I'll leave this desk after this place gets back to normal, otherwise shut up and let me sit here."

"Shoot girl," Blue said. "Looks like you're about as busy as a cat on a hot tin roof. Don't think you need to be this busy. Go back to bed."

"I'm fine," Grace said. "Baby's sleeping anyways. St. James, who went out after Carol and Fate?"

"Merle and Cash."

"Alright, bring me Daryl, I'd better calm him down before he rages so hot he melts the remaining glass in my church."

"I'm not your butler," St. James said.

"I'll get him myself then," Grace moved to stand.

"Sit, Jesus, I don't know how the Lieutenant puts up with you," St. James growled. "Miserable, stubborn ass…"

"I heard that!" Grace shouted after him.

"Good!" The office door slammed and Blue winced.

Blue whistled low. "That boy is maaa-aad."

"It gives him something to do," Grace replied. She eyed the remaining children as Buck continued to sing to them. "I'm sorry, Mr. Blue."

"Me too. Mighty nice of you all to put us up, I promise we'll pull our weight."

"I know you will, Mr. Blue, you're a rough, hardworking fellow. I know we're getting the better bargain here."

He flushed a little. "Well shoot, girl, I do what I gotta do to get by.

He didn't add how he felt he let those kids down.

Shit, he felt as useless as tits on a boar.

**__..-~-..__**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

**DarylDixon'sLover - What's wrong with them having a girl?  
><strong>

**vickih - Milton taking in Toby was cute I thought, Milton is so a daddy, even if he wants to deny it.**

**Yazzy x - Hehe, Merle's big hands and feet also are important to note. ^_^**

**Brazen Hussy - You know, I don't care how hard Carol is getting on the show, in my stories, she will always give pause for children walkers. And in no way does this mean she deserves to get bit. Gotta keep her human in some ways, right?**

**Merle's Right Hand - You know though, as I was writing the Lt. teasing Carol and calling her General, I got weird sexual vibes about it...like in another world they'd have ended up together and he'd call her General playfully...never mind, just thinking muh thoughts.**

**Claire Randall Fraser - Ooh, girl, sorry...there is some heavy stuff coming up. But as always I'll try to add some levity to it.**

**Ciao Bella - Ah, Elise, I hope this chapter answered your question. She's around, I just have so many characters to try to cover I sometimes neglect a few. ^_^**


	19. Arthur McBride

**Because it's St. Paddy's Day, I decided to post an O'Haracentric chapter (sort of). So enjoy!  
><strong>

**__..-~-..__**

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><p><strong>Dear Henry,<strong>

We've had a herd of uggies here, my brother and Carol went out to see if they could find out why or where they were coming from.

I think it was a rash decision, but I can understand the urgency. If there's threats out there, people releasing these things on us or…God forbid if they came from some poor group that got taken out from the inside…I don't really think I can handle the idea right now.

The thing is, it's been nearly twenty-four hours since they left and Merle and Cash went after them, but neither they or Carol or my brother have come back. There's enough leftover formula for Scout, but if Carol doesn't come back soon, the formula will only last a month. I hope to God nothing happened to that baby girl's mama. I prayed for the first time ever, I prayed for us.

I'm scared.

I think for the first time in a long time I actually feel unsafe and…I guess you don't want to hear about my problems. Everyone here says they'll come home, they say they can't be missing, but I have a bad feeling about this time. I feel like…I feel like we're due for some bad gris-gris.

Sid delivering this letter says they got some walkers there as well, though thankfully no loss of life on their end. I hope he made it safely to you and I hope that all is well in Tennessee.

I send all my love to you and your men. I hope the winter is still treating you kindly up North.

Love,

Adele

P.S. – Celeste and Landon both miss you. I think Langdon is awfully attached to you. I hope you come and see them both soon. At least Langdon, he's growing so fast.

**__..-~-..__**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

****O'Hara****

Lifting his eyes from the letter, he met the gaze of the blond from Delgado's group, the one who was shovelling canned beans and pork into his mouth from the table of the farmhouse they were bunkered in.

"How long did it take you to get here?" He asked calmly.

"A day and half, hard riding," Sid said. "I was worried infected were going to chew on my ass if I stopped. Didn't see many though. Two, maybe three."

"Any signs of anyone living?"

Sid shook his head.

O'Hara turned to Fredricks who was also heaping some chow on his plate, the Sergeant raised his brows.

He had a serious decision to make. Give up their post here in Tennessee, allow it to get overrun with all manners of disgusting post-apocalyptic rabble or stay and ignore the problems of the convent group in Georgia.

He thought of Adele's neat handwriting, of the words 'I'm scared' and it settled heavily in his stomach. He didn't join up to make his father happy. In the end he joined up to do right, to help people, to ensure they didn't ever need to feel scared.

"Fredricks," he addressed the man.

"Yes, sir."

"Hold our position here with the men, I'm going back with this one."

"No, you're not," Sid objected. "I rode hard here, Digger needs to rest up a day or two. He's earned that."

"Then I'm going on my own, I'll take a jeep."

Fredricks winced. "We ran out of diesel last night."

Sighing, O'Hara plucked on his gloves. "Then I'll walk."

"Here," Fredricks said, tossing a keychain at him. "Take the clunker!"

O'Hara eyed the keys sullenly.

"Or walk all the way to Georgia," his Sergeant added.

"Hard to remain inconspicuous in a diesel piece of crap that rattles and chugs like a damned steam engine," O'Hara said.

"Well," the Sergeant said with a sly grin. "I'll have a rickshaw built for your return and we'll get one of the grunts to tug it for you. Until then, just be careful on the curves."

"Why? Because the doors might fall off?" O'Hara murmured, grabbing his pack and stuffing it full of things he'd need.

"She's the only thing that has a full tank," Fredricks said.

"Because no one is fool enough to use her," O'Hara objected, moving to the door. "Take care of my men, Sergeant."

"Wait up," Fredricks said, catching O'Hara just outside the door.

The two CO's eyed a grunt warily, sending the man who had been outside smoking, back into the building.

"Are you sure you don't want to take some men with you?" Fredricks asked.

O'Hara squinted at the forest surrounding their temporary fortification and shrugged. "Can't spare the men."

"Can the men spare their CO?" Fredricks shot back.

"Probably not," O'Hara said. "But God help us if we lose these allies."

Fredricks shifted on his feet. "Are you sure that's all it is, Hank?"

Uncomfortable to be so familiar with someone, O'Hara kicked at a raised plank on the porch floor and frowned.

"It's just I know that girl back at the convent was—"

"I've done my best to discourage her, Sergeant," O'Hara broke in swiftly. "Not that it's anyone's business. I merely keep in contact with her because she's the one that volunteered to relay our messages to the convent leaders."

"Look, Hank, we're friends," Fredricks said.

This caused O'Hara to snap his head up from the planks of the porch, eyes staring hard at the man.

"We are," Fredricks insisted. "I know you think you live on your own private island, but we've had each other's backs in some pretty hairy stuff, man. I just want you to know that I need you around. I'm capable, but I'm not shit compared to you, Hank. You have to know this. What's that song you taught me that night in Nashville?"

"Arthur McBride," O'Hara said.

"Yeah, we're like those brothers, clubbing dicks over the heads and messing up their shit."

"Those two were cousins," O'Hara said.

"Doesn't matter, small fries," Fredricks said, his hand falling on O'Hara's shoulder lightly, knowing the man hated to be touched.

O'Hara tensed, but accepted the touch. There was really no one he trusted more than Fredricks. Fredricks was safe. Fredricks had never hurt him.

"We're brothers now, Hank," Fredricks said. "I want you to know this. I'll be here for you as long as you need me. So be careful out there, alright?"

O'Hara nodded.

"And take Rhoades," Fredricks added.

O'Hara scowled deeply, eyes glaring blue flames.

Fredricks laughed. "Come on, he's not that bad."

"The man's a timber wolf," O'Hara snarled. "I'd rather drink dishwater."

"Well, that's unfair," Rhoades said, dropping his pack down heavily on the porch beside them.

"How could you possibly know I would be heading out?" O'Hara demanded.

"Saw you two on the porch about to make out, didn't know you were going anywhere, just wanted to bust up the romantic moment," the man clapped Fredricks hard on the shoulder. "Cock block you a little."

"I wouldn't make out with Hank when I'm so into you, Otis," Fredricks said, moving towards Rhoades and pecking him on the cheek.

Rhoades shoved the man hard and laughed. "Get off me you ass!"

"Ooh, I love the rough stuff, Marine," Fredricks cooed.

"Alright, knock it off, both of you," O'Hara said. "You're testing the tensile strength of the DADT policy."

"Want some, Major?" Rhoades teased. "Jealous?"

"Shut up and get in that truck," O'Hara growled.

Fredricks waited for Rhoades, not even knowing what he was doing, to hop into the shitty old Ford they had waiting for them, before whispering. "Try not to kill him, Hank."

"I make no promises," O'Hara said. "I'm only human." He took a step towards the truck in the driveway, then stopped and turned back to his second-in-command. "Take care of yourself, Fredricks." He faltered, frowning.

"It's Danny, sir." Fredricks said.

"Of course, I knew that, Donny," O'Hara teased, his face straight.

Fredricks beamed. "Keep them off your ass, sir."

"And away from the food, _Danny_."

"Kiss him!" Rhoades shouted from the truck.

"No one would know," O'Hara said, "if I did end up killing him."

"For diplomatic reasons with the Marines, maybe you best not," Fredricks suggested.

"We'll see, it's a long drive to the convent."

**__..-~-..__**

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><p><strong><em><em>..-~-..<em>_**

****Carol****

"You ever thought it would end like this?"

They were huddled close together in the darkness for warmth, having finally arranged the old stones under their asses to keep them up from the sludgey muck, the two dead walkers pushed as far from them as possible, piled over the old rusted bucket they used for a latrine.

She sucked the last drop of ketchup from the packet he had given her and tossed it into the darkness. "The handsome Cajun and the well were a surprise."

At the bottom of an old well shaft, they sat expecting a walker to tumble down on them at any moment, expecting someone from the convent to find them soon enough. It had been two days though and no one showed up yet, not even a walker since the first two (which she wasn't complaining about at all.)

She was thankful now for the Lieutenant's oversized pack, for it contained not only food enough to last them a week (granted they were tiny soup cracker packets, some hard, once gummy candy and ketchup), but a couple of water bottles and a flare gun for when they heard voices or shouting.

"What about you? This how you envisioned the end?" She asked, trying to keep the situation light.

He shifted under her in the dark, having put himself under her like a gentleman to take the brunt of the chill and damp. "Well, no, I imagined the end to involve an angry ex-nun. Quite possibly when we return."

"Yeah, I imagine Daryl will blast me too," she said.

"I can't believe you fell down a well and dragged me with you," he teased.

She shoved him hard. "I can't believe you think that's what actually happened, your mind must be getting scrambled without sunlight, because as I recall it, it was your big dumb feet that planted themselves on this rotted wood and tumbled in."

He chuckled. "And you just…appeared in this well with me? Placing blame is hardly the thing to do right now, _ange_."

Smiling against the situation, Carol finished another ketchup packet and tossed it.

"Ah, someone will find us…" he sniffed. "This is the most embarrassing thing to happen to ever happen to me."

"Except for that time you were swimming in tampon boxes and screaming 'I don't want to die like this'," she pointed out.

He poked her ribs and she squirmed. "_Cabri_ has a big mouth."

She laughed.

When the laughter died, she looked back up at the opening above them. "You know, if we had a few more walkers down here, you could stand on them and give us enough extra reach, I could get out…"

"Yeah, and when it rains it would pour, we'd get more than we'd bargain for looking for uggies," the Lieutenant said.

"Better chance than starving down here," she pointed out.

He was quiet, no doubt considering it.

"No," he said. "We'll save it for a last resort before starving."

She was quiet, accepting his decision. Things weren't too desperate yet.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked after a long period of her awkwardly trying hard not to squirm too much on his lap.

"Yep."

"Daryl tells you things, right?"

"Sometimes."

"Does he talk about me? About us?" She asked.

The Lieutenant was quiet, before drawling slowly. "Ye-es."

"Do you think he's…I mean, I know he's not…he'd never make it known, but do you think he's disappointed that we had a girl? He's been…different lately."

"How different?"

It bothered her that the Lieutenant never said anything about Daryl being disappointed in Scout, but she put that thought to the back burner.

"I don't know…it started before Scout was born, he was…not interested in…sex." She quickly added, "sorry, never mind. It's too personal."

"No, now, it's…it's bothering you?"

She shrugged. "I guess, I got used to living like a – forgive the term – nun with Ed. I mean, when we had sex, I'd lay there and think of Kentucky, but I love Daryl and I enjoy sex with him, but lately he's been avoiding it. Am I…is it me?"

The Lieutenant settled his chin on the top of her head. She could practically hear him thinking.

"_Mais_," he said finally. "You have to realize that Daryl was practically a virgin when you two hooked up. I think, I think he's not used to so much physical intimacy. And you're wrong about him being disappointed in Scout, I don't think I met a man who's so devoted to his little girl. He's the kind of daddy I wish I could be."

She smiled. It was a relief to speak with the Lieutenant, even his voice soothed her worries. "You're a great father, Lieutenant. Don't sell yourself short."

He shrugged. "I'm not really," he said. "I don't have enough time for them, I'm…there are much better daddy's out there and Daryl is one of them."

"Well, if we're playing the bad parent game, let's talk about this one here," she said. "Lost my daughter, got her killed, and now here I am in a well while my baby girl lives off of…oh God, I don't know. Formula, I'm hoping."

Wrapping his arms around her tight, the Lieutenant held her and she felt his love. He was a giant teddy bear and his hugs were like blankets fresh from the dryer.

"Okay, no more of that talk," he said. "I don't like hearing you belittle yourself when it's a stone cold lie. Let's change the subject."

She smirked sadly and started in on something that had been bothering her for a while. "You know Andrea saved my life once?"

"Did she?"

"Hm, I thought she died when she did it."

"She's a brave woman."

"But she's trying to stir up shit," Carol went on firmly. "I can't abide that."

"She's worried, I guess."

"She's power hungry and it's really getting under my skin. I can't have someone second guessing Grace and I every time we make a decision."

The Lieutenant was quiet.

"I'm sorry," Carol said. "I'm unloading all kinds of things on you today."

She felt the man smiled into her hair. "No, it's okay, _ange_, you know I like a woman with fire. I'm just…soaking it all in. Despite my mouth always going, I don't like to give opinions or judgements so hastily."

Dropping her hand as he fell silent again, she toyed with the first thing it made contact with, without even thinking about what it was, until he flexed his fingers under hers and she realized she was toying with his hand.

She let go sheepishly.

"Sorry."

He was still quiet and for a moment she thought she embarrassed the both of them by taking his hand in hers.

"If you want," he began slowly, not even mentioning the hand thing, "from now on, when she opens her mouth against you two, I'll be more vocal."

She smiled. "I appreciate the support, but I didn't mean…I wasn't trying to recruit you or anything."

"No," he said. "In the Corps, you talk shit about a superior, you get written up, if that. No, it's about subversive shit stirring. You can't discredit someone's leadership or weaker minds will follow. You and Gracie have every right to be in charge, you were voted in fairly. I'll be your muscle, if you need."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"You know you'll always have my support, Carol," the Lieutenant said, taking her hand without hesitation. "And not just because of Daryl, but…because I've always liked you, _ange_. You're family."

Carol could have sworn the smile she wore brightened the dark well.

"Oo-ye-yi," the Lieutenant murmured. "Those uggies are stinking up the place."

**__..-~-..__**

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**Brazen Hussy - Careful, friend, you're treading in dangerous waters talking about Carol that way...  
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**vickih - Trust me. I had problems...but...yeah, it is what it is.**

**Yazzy x - Always look on the bright side of life...**

**Ciao Bella - Hehe, you lazy toad! (Can't say much more about being lazy though, I've done that before...)**

**Claire Randall Fraser - Sorry, hon. My story was getting too sugary. I need to balance it with some death and darkness.**

**Princess Cruella - Milton is going to be such a cutie, I agree! Now, he needs a mama for Toby...hehe...**

**Surplus Imagination - It did. I'm not going to be a happy person when this story is over, I can tell you that much...**

**itsi3 - Thanks! ^_^**


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